Judgment Day
by Scribbler
Summary: Four years ago, mutants were exposed to the world. Humanity retaliated with the XVirus, a strain of biological warfare that ransacked the planet and left devastation in its wake. Epilogue 2: Not quite a happy ending [Now with added fanart goodness!]
1. Pyrrhic Victory

DISCLAIMER: X-Men: Evo and its characters don't belong to me, nor to any of the other authors involved with this fic. We tried to buy them from Marvel, we really did. Put all our collective funds in the pot and everything. But we were pipped at the post by another bidder called WB, or some such. Feh.  
  
TRUCKLOAD O' NOTES: I want you to close your eyes and cast your mind back. Far back, into the dim and distant past, when Evo was just a pilot and we knew nothing other than Strategy X. Can you see it? Can you see all the history of Evo's three seasons since then? You can?   
  
Well, delete it. Delete it all. You see, last October the authors of InterNutter's Bulletin Board got together and started a fic where only the events of Strategy X were relevant, and everything went off at a tangent from there. We called it _Judgment Day_, and the fic below is the fruit of our labours. I've edited out the post divisions, so everything runs as one coherent narrative.   
  
Enjoy.  
  
CREDITS: Authors in order of posting are Scribbler, InterNutter, Amicitia, Lyra Silvertongue, FuzzyElfMirage, Kladyelf, Idsunki, Yma, Yodelbean and Klutz.   
  
*******************  
  
_'Judgment Day'_   
  
First Fragment ~ _'Pyrrhic Victory'_  
  
*******************  
  
The street was dark, and a foetid stench hung on the air. Clouds of black flies swarmed around, heavy and sinister billows in the already bleak alleyway. They clustered around a sizeable mound surrounded by various kinds of garbage, landing and crawling inside like the hideous insects they were.   
  
A sound nearby startled them, and the horde lifted off as one, buzzing their anger at being disturbed.   
  
Carefully, a subtle blue shape moved amongst the trash, picking its way through like a deer on legs too deformed to be anything but delicate. A small nose scented the air, wrinkling, but suppressing a snort at the putrid reek. Skirting around, it bent and scented again. The stink was strongest here, and it extended one misshapen hand to poke at the mouldering refuse.   
  
With a shift and a slide, the decomposing stuff moved, releasing a fresh wave of stomach churning stench. The slender shape reeled back, gagging and clapping both hands over its face. Purple, bulging fingers slipped into view, engorged with old death, and a face bloated beyond all recognition stared glassily at nothing.   
  
The shape rose and shook its head. Something long and thin whipped behind it, choosing to avoid contact with the ground and remain in the air, safely away from any other unpleasantries this alley had to offer.   
  
A large black fly hovered about, too tempted by the rich, decaying smell to stay away. It risked death by flying close, but instead of swatting the insect the figure turned and slid away, elusive as a living shadow clinging to the murk.   
  
The dead city rose up, tall and imposing on all sides. Old newspapers blew past, swatting against rusty cars and scudding past open entrances where doors banged far too loud for their own good in the chill wind. Not a soul stirred. Nobody dared. If anyone was left in this deserted place, then they remained in hiding, cowering away like rats in a giant trap. The once-bustling metropolis made for an eerie scene as the silent figure slid noiselessly on its way, weaving through shadows like a ghost: intangible and mysterious.   
  
One particularly dilapidated building knifed up out of the gloom, broken glass windows glaring angrily out at the world. Several panes had been boarded up, but the nails were old, and the job half-hearted. Pulling aside one of the planks, the taciturn figure crawled inside.   
  
Within was a veritable warren of fallen beams and bricks, strewn about any which way. A scorched hole in the ceiling showed a few tired stars peeping down from the sky, and their watery light provided just enough illumination for the figure to negotiate it's way, cat-like, through the network of wood and stone. It's back arched, and it's muscles contorted in a way no normal creature could, and eventually, after many minutes of careful navigation, it emerged at a sizeable tear in the floor. The fallen debris arced over it like a screen, providing a sort-of protection from prying eyes.   
  
With a quick, precursory glance about, the shape dropped through the gap and landed on all fours with a faint 'floomph' and a shower of dust.   
  
A scurrying sounded a little distance away, and the figure turned golden eyes to the noise. "Robyn?"   
  
Silence.   
  
"Robyn, it's me."   
  
A shuffle, followed by a voice, high and fluty. "Kurti?"   
  
"Uh-huh."   
  
Tentatively, a movement made itself known in the corner of the abandoned cellar, and the blue figure homed in on it like a beacon, its sight being much better here in the darkness than most.   
  
Halfway across the chamber it stepped into a patch of starlight, and at once a hushed squeal preceded a small body that came flying forth from the murkiness.   
  
"Kurti!" the voice, which belonged to a tiny girl with sunken cheeks and hollow eyes, said happily. "I was so *worried*."   
  
The larger figure, now identified as 'Kurti', enveloped the child in a hug, wrapping his arms about her tiny, painfully thin body and avoiding the jutting bones that stuck out at all angles. She nestled into his shoulder.   
  
"Shhh, liebchen. I'm back now."   
  
"But you were gone so *long*." Eyes as round as moons stared innocently up at him. "Did you find anything?"   
  
Kurti decided against telling her about the body in the alley, instead flashing a toothy smile and extracting a small package from the pocket of his overly long coat. She grabbed it gladly and began tearing at the wrapping with her sharp little teeth. The paper gave easily, and a clutch of shiny bars fell to the floor.   
  
The little girl gasped. "Chocolate?" She was breathless with excitement. Chocolate was a luxury left behind with the era before the 'bad times'. To find one bar was unusual, but to be presented with three just like this was unbelievable. "Where did you find this much food?"   
  
Kurti grunted. "A shop," he said noncommittally.   
  
She shot him a look. "Kurti...." she said warningly, sounding at least twice her age. He was lying. She knew he was lying.   
  
Kurti sighed and threw up his hands. "OK, OK, you got me. Not a shop."   
  
"Where then?" She was suspicious, as well she might be. With food a short as it was, the little that was left was fought over. Kurti had come home before now with cuts and bruises from some scrap or other over a piece of bread he'd found whilst out foraging. He was generally victorious in such battles, but Robyn often felt a pang of sympathy for the folk who'd gone hungry that they might eat.   
  
Or, at least, she used to. When there were still people around to feel sorry for.  
  
There hadn't been anybody around these parts save themselves for a long time, now.  
  
Kurti shoved his strange hands in his pockets, scuffing his bare feet.   
  
"Kurti..."   
  
"Found a house."   
  
"People?" Hope tinged her voice. Other people in this wasteland of a city?   
  
"Family."   
  
"Mutants?" Even more hope.   
  
He shrugged. "Dunno."   
  
Her face fell, realisation coming with the equivalent of a slap. "Dead then," she said simply.   
  
For a moment her bluntness shocked him. Then Kurti swallowed and nodded, choosing not to mention the various stages of decomposition, or the gruesome ways in which the family had met their ends. "Ja."   
  
"Oh." Robyn scrutinised the bars of chocolate. "Theirs?"   
  
"Ja. A secret stash. I found it under a floorboard." Kurti hunkered down, taking a glossy tablet and splitting the packaging with a practised hand. He raised the brown square to his face, inhaling the luxurious scent with gusto. "Eat up," he advised, gesturing to the two bars left. "Won't do any good if you leave them."   
  
Robyn did as she was bade, although with much less finesse. She fell upon the remaining chocolate like a wild beast, snatching at one and cramming it into her mouth. Kurti was much more subdued, eating his with small bites that lasted a long time, so as to make the food seem more to his growling belly.   
  
The last bar stared up at them. Kurti reached forward with his tail and pushed it towards Robyn. "You take it," he said generously, although his empty gut howled at losing the prize.   
  
In answer, she opened the bar, counted the squares, and broke it into two even portions. She offered one to him, which he refused, pushing it back at her. Robyn frowned. "I won't eat it unless you do."   
  
Sighing, Kurti took the proffered sweet and devoured it. Sugar coursed through his blood, and he sucked his fingers with a contented sigh.   
  
"Time to bed down," he said with a glance up at the sky poking through the fallen beams. "It'll be light soon."   
  
"Aw," Robyn groaned, but there was no turning him, and she morosely went to the single mattress in the corner that served as bed for both of them. Kurti followed after her, favouring two legs and swinging his tail from side to side.   
  
Robyn waited as he lay down, then curled up behind him, pressing her back to his and curling her tail around her hunched knees. It wasn't as dexterous as Kurti's, but the tuft on the end trapped heat, and was good for keeping her legs warm where her fur was shortest. She shivered, groping around for the grubby blanket and heaving it over the two of them. It was old, probably from some baby's crib. Robyn liked to fantasise it had been her own, and nestled her fuzzy snout into the fabric, ignoring the musty smell in favour of its softness against her sensitive nose.   
  
"Kurti?" she said warily. The elder mutant had been out foraging all night, and was probably tired. She didn't want to wake him if he'd already fallen asleep.   
  
The warm mound pressed to her spine moved. "Ja, Kleines?" He sounded sleepy, but still alert enough to talk.   
  
Robyn hugged the blanket close. "Can you tell the story again. The one about... before."   
  
Behind her, Kurti twitched his ears. "Don't you want to hear a different one tonight, liebchen? You've heard that one a thousand times."   
  
"I like it," she sniffed. "Makes me feel all nice inside."   
  
Kurti sighed. "OK, ich erkläre Ihnen die Geschichte wieder.[1]"   
  
"Thank you, Kurti." She reached out to hold his hand. "I like when you tell the story. You tell it well."   
  
Unseen, Kurti's expression turned sad. He could understand why Robyn like to hear certain parts of this story, but she always insisted he tell it right through to the end. It wasn't right that such a little girl hear about things like that.   
  
"Kurti?"   
  
"A long time ago," he said in answer, "The city wasn't like this. A long time ago, lots of people lived here. They lived in giant glass and stone houses as tall as the sky, and every day they'd wake up to a new morning where the sun shone and the birds sang. Back then there were a great many things you don't see so much of now, like trees and grass. You've never felt grass wriggling between your toes before, have you Robyn?"   
  
"Uh-uh. Is it nice?"   
  
"Zweifellos! Cool, and in the mornings it was always wet with dew."   
  
"Did lots of people like the grass?"   
  
"Jawohl."   
  
"Then why did they burn it all?"   
  
"I'm getting to that bit, just wait a second." Kurti paused as he took up the thread again, remembering with perfect clarity what life had been like back then. "Like I said, lots of people lived in this city. But this wasn't the only one. There were a great many cities, each one containing thousands upon thousands of people - maybe even millions."   
  
"So many," came the hushed breath. "I wish I could've seen them all."   
  
"I did," Kurti told her, right on cue, as he always did at this point in the story. It was like a role-play they acted out every time Robyn asked for him to tell it to her, and they were the actors who knew their parts implicitly. "I saw them all. But not all people were nice, Robyn, and not all people were the same either. Some people had special abilities, special powers that others didn't possess."   
  
"Like magic?"   
  
"Ja, like magic. These special people were given their own special name. They were called 'mutants'. But other people were very frightened of these mutants, so for a long time they hid away, and pretended to be normal, like everybody else. They knew that if it was discovered they were different then they would be shunned and hurt, because people hate and fear what they don't understand."   
  
"That was when you came here, wasn't it Kurti? When all the mutants were pretending to be like normal people."   
  
"Ja. I came here to a special school, to learn about my powers and meet other mutants. But I had only been here a short while when normal people found out about our school. They were scared of us, so they shut us down."   
  
"Were you sent away?"   
  
"They tried to send me away, but I stayed with the man who brought me here. Herr Xavier. Or should I say, Herr Engel? We all tried to stay with him; me, Scott, Jean, Ororo, even Logan. But it wasn't to be."   
  
"Because the bad times came."   
  
"Ja, the bad times. People were so scared of we mutants that they decided they didn't want us around anymore. So they tried to get rid of us by putting us in special jails, and making us wear special collars that took away our powers. But there were far more mutants that people realised at first, and they wouldn't all fit in these prisons. So they tried hunting us down instead."   
  
Tears gathered in his eyes as he remembered being chased by an angry mob, armed with rifles and shotguns. He'd never tell Robyn about how they'd found the motley remains of the Institute, or how they'd shot Herr Xavier as he slept, or how he had found the kind man's body, eyes open and staring glassily at the ceiling as the blood collected around his head. He'd keep that bit of history close to him, along with all the happy memories of the few short weeks he'd spent here in America before the mutant hunters came and flushed them out.   
  
"Kurti?"   
  
"I'm all right, liebchen. Where was I?"   
  
"The bad times had started," she prompted.   
  
"Oh yes. Well, you see poppet, even by chasing mutants and shooting them, they couldn't stop them appearing, so somebody came up with an idea. A terrible, horrible idea, that still haunts us today. A scientist created a virus that attacked only mutants and killed them, leaving normal humans alone. Do you know what that virus was called?"   
  
"The X-Virus?"   
  
"That's right, the X-Virus. It was a deadly thing, but people were so scared they used it anyway. They hated mutants so much that they didn't care what happened as long as those who were different were gone. But something went wrong. The virus did indeed kill off many, many mutants. The streets were piled high with the dead because nobody wanted to touch the 'muties' to bury them. But then the sickness got out of control. It was too potent, too strong to be used in the quantities they spread it around in. It mutated, and started attacking normal people too."   
  
"How awful," Robyn said automatically, with little of the feeling supposed to be used with the words. "Did a lot of people die?"   
  
"Ja, lots and lots and lots. Eventually they managed to create an anti-virus to make it impossible for the sickness to affect people, but it was already too late. Millions had died. The cities were desolate, abandoned because living so close together meant that the illness spread faster. Everything was dead. Killed by fear and stupidity. They pumped in clouds of the anti-virus, but it did no good. It killed everything green, but there weren't enough people left to save."   
  
"But we survived."   
  
"Yes, poppet. You and I survived. I found you crying in your pram in the street when you were very tiny. There was nobody else around, so I took you with me."   
  
"Didn't I have anybody with me?" She didn't sound remorseful. She'd heard the story too many times for such petty emotion.   
  
Kurti winced as he remembered the woman's body slumped next to the pram. "No, you were all alone."   
  
"Oh." She paused for a second. The story was drawing to a close. Now she was supposed to say 'thank you' to him, turn over and go to sleep. Kurti waited for her to loose his hand, but was surprised when, for the first time in months, Robyn kept hold and said something different. "Kurti, do you think the lots-of-people will ever come back?"   
  
"Robyn, you know they can't. They're - "   
  
"All dead," she cut him off, "I know. You said so. But we survived, didn't we? Wouldn't there be other people in other places who did too? Other mutants?"   
  
"Maybe," he conceded. "But you know why we can't go look for them, don't you? After the virus was removed, those humans still left blamed mutants for what had happened. They started to hunt us again, and now it's not safe to go out very much." He shivered as the memory of mutant bounty hunters flitted across his mind. He'd had several near misses with them before, and was in no hurry to expose little Robyn to their 'tender mercies'.   
  
"But couldn't they come here, to us?" There was a desperate note to her voice, and Kurti's heart, made melancholy by the retelling of the story, softened at the sound of it.   
  
"It's possible, poppet. Just not probable."   
  
She said nothing more, but Kurti felt her shift, and knew that she was burying her face in the blanket again. He knew how she wished that she were older, that she might go out foraging with him, but his chest clenched at the very notion. After losing his teammates one by one, Robyn was all he had left. He was her protector, and there was no way he would ever let anything happen to this one little girl.   
  
He was just dozing off, sleep finally claiming his eyelids, when her delicate voice came again. "G'night Kurti," she whispered.   
  
He smiled, and let his tail-tip brush her cheek in a gesture of affection. "Gute Nacht, meine kleine Schwester."  
  
*******************  
  
It wasn't easy, being insane. But you had to keep busy. For someone who was faster than the eye could register, this was pretty tough. But Pietro had found something to do.   
  
Clean up Bayville.   
  
He started in the city centre, picked a building, and set it up nicely. Any bodies he found were taken to a the park and buried with enough information as he had.   
  
Each building, corpses included, took the better part of the day. Burying was the longest, because he had to work at the speed that the backhoe did, but everything else was peachy.   
  
He spoke to the dead, because there was no-one else to speak to, and carried on marvellously witty dialogues with thin air.   
  
He found no survivors, because the other survivors in the city were afraid to show themselves to daylight. He just had to hope that someone would see or hear him.   
  
Maybe even his sister.   
  
Or father.   
  
Hell, he'd even make nice to *Mystique*.   
  
If only he could find someone. Or someone could find him.  
  
*******************  
  
A face reared up out of the darkness. Its skin flapped loose, and larvae crawled freely beneath the flesh. Its mouth was nothing but a gaping hole, teeth and lips long gone.   
  
Yet it was its eyes that held him. Or rather, the lack of them. The living corpse extended one bulbous finger and pointed, intoning in a voice barely above a whisper; "You failed us, Kurt. You failed us all."   
  
More figures appeared by its side, each as repulsively decayed as the last. All of them pointed with what limbs they had left, moaning through ruptured windpipes.   
  
"You failed us, Kurt. You failed us."   
  
Kurt skittered backwards, stumbled, and fell. The bodies loomed closer, staggering toward him on legs covered in torn and tattered clothes. Bits dropped off as they hulked along, and pools of viscous liquid trailed behind more than one of them. Kurt covered his face with his hands, not wanting to look upon them. Upon the hideous *things* they'd become.   
  
The stink of rotting meat filled his nostrils, and he had to remove his hands to breathe. When he opened his eyes the corpses had surrounded him, still pointing and lamenting loudly. His stomach lurched as he recognised what was left of their faces.   
  
There were three of them in all. One sat, but the other two stood either side of his wheelchair like grotesque guards. The tallest one lifted an arm that bore no hand and gestured at the trembling elf.   
  
"Kurt. Why? Why did you do it?"   
  
Kurt could only quiver, shaking his head. He had no voice to answer, and no words to say even if he could.   
  
The other standing figure, the one with only half a face, asked; "Weren't we a team? A family?" The voice was breathy, since its throat was an open wound, but female. Kurt looked up at her, taking in the lank red hair and lifeless, filmy eyes.   
  
"Ja," he replied. The first word he'd said. "You were all precious to me. All of you."   
  
The other corpse glared balefully at him with empty sockets. A pair of shattered glasses were clutched in its only hand, and it waved these about angrily. "Then why did you desert us?"   
  
"Scott," Kurt tried to plead with the irate shade, "I... I couldn't help myself. I was scared. Please try to understand. I couldn't help myself... I didn't... I didn't mean for this to happen... honestly... bitte..."   
  
"All I understand is that you saw them coming. You knew they were on their way, and yet you ran instead of warning us. You let them kill us, Kurt! You *let* them!" the carcass yelled, black blood oozing from the side of its once-mouth.   
  
The female beside him grated sonorously; "We tried to fight them, but there were too many. I was first. They took my throat away, Kurt." She indicated to the flapping folds. "Scott blasted his way over, but it was too late. I was already gone by the time he reached me." She sounded more sad than angry, and Kurt's already broken heart cracked a little more.   
  
The corpse that had once been Scott Summers advanced on him. "I held her in my arms while she was dying, Kurt. I saw the blood coming from her neck, but there was nothing I could do. *Nothing*! And do you know what her last words to me were? She said, 'I hope Kurt got out OK'. Then she died, right there in front of me! I couldn't even see straight after that, I was so angry. Two bullets," he pointed to his chest and torso, "Here and here. I had to lie there on the ground, bleeding to death before one of the bastards took pity and came to finish me off."   
  
Kurt pressed his hands over his ears. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered soulfully, "They had torches and guns. The memories... I-I-I couldn't control them. I was so scared... it was Winzeldorf all over again. I'm sorry, entschuldigung. I'm so, so sorry - "   
  
"Leave him alone," a new voice entered the fray, and both standing bodies turned to look at the speaker. "Let me talk to him."   
  
Kurt heard shuffling as they moved back, and a ghastly creaking, like rending metal, approached where he crouched in the darkness. He didn't dare to look up, and kept his gaze fixed on the invisible ground at his feet.   
  
The noise grew nearer, and then halted.   
  
"Kurt," said the voice. The elf almost cried out in pain and grief. He knew that voice. He'd loved that voice, once. That voice had given him new hope, new purpose. That voice had inspired a belief in his soul that peace was a possibility. He recognised that voice, and screwed up his eyes.   
  
"Nein, nein, don't make me look! I don't want to see! Bitte, don't make me look!"   
  
"Kurt," the voice said again, and despite all his efforts, Kurt found himself raising his head. His sight was drawn to the face that matched the speaker, and lifted until he could look at it.   
  
Except that the face no longer matched the voice.   
  
Parts were still the same. Those that weren't covered in blood. The angular nose, the wise mouth, the high cheekbones - he remembered all of them. But the rest....   
  
An ugly hole glared out of the bald forehead, ringed by black and dried blood. The skull around it was shattered; shards of bone poking through the papery skin. The owner of this terrible injury tilted his neck a little, and Kurt could just see the awful remains of the exit wound.   
  
The wraith once known as Charles Xavier extended a hand out to his former pupil, and smiled. "Kurt," it said with something akin to warmth, "Kurt, it's time to go."   
  
Kurt trembled. "What do you mean?"   
  
"You were to blame for our deaths," the Scott-shade explained with disgust. "So, to repay us, you must now give up your life in return."   
  
Kurt gaped, words deserting him once more. He opened and shut his mouth like a beached fish, golden eyes staring and wide. He looked at the proffered hand before him. It was mere inches from his body, open and inviting. Just as it had once been back in Heirelgart, when he was first asked to join the Institute.   
  
Slowly, as if in another plain of reality, The Professor's fingers began to change. The flesh shifted, became hard, and a glittering sheen settled over them. The shone in a light that wasn't there, reflecting Kurt's terror-stricken expression with perfect, sickening clarity.   
  
Charles drew his arm back and, still smiling, rammed the knife deep into Kurt's chest.   
  
Agony lanced through him, consuming his very soul in a fiery pain more than anything he'd ever known. It was worse than the flames licking up him at the stake in Winzeldorf - beyond it. It was sadness, remorse, grief and guilt, sharpened and honed and plunged into his heart where he'd never forget them. Never forget what he'd done that day when the hunters came a-calling and he abandoned his team.   
  
And Kurt screamed.   
  
*******************  
  
Robyn started, blinking sleepily. The blanket was still clutched possessively to her chest, and she yawned widely.   
  
Something had woken her. But what?   
  
At her back, Kurti's body moved, and she heard him whimper. Realising what had awoken her, she crawled off the mattress and went to him, touching his shoulder gently.   
  
Kurt sat up with a jolt, eyes like new moons and sweat slicking his fur. He was breathing hard, and gawped openly for a moment before his eyes alighted on the little mutant girl kneeling in front of him.   
  
"R-R-R-" he stuttered, still too shaken to be coherent.   
  
Robyn stood up and laid a cooling hand on his brow, stroking and soothing him with the sound of her voice. "Shhh," she whispered. "You were having another nightmare."   
  
"A ni-" Kurt looked at his hands, and felt his chest. He was whole and unscathed, and there was nobody here but himself and Robyn, who looked at him with nothing but kindness in her soft brown eyes. The elf sighed, but his lungs remained tight, the memory of his visions refusing to let go so easily.   
  
"Was it another bad one?"   
  
"Ja. I'm sorry, poppet. Did I wake you?"   
  
She shook her head, lying to make him feel better. Kurti was always so distraught after these bad dreams. They didn't happen very often any more, but when they did he was not quite the same for hours afterwards. He never told her what they were about, but sometimes she'd come to only to find him sitting in the corner, face to the wall, muttering something about 'Verrat[2]' and 'Ausfall[3]', whatever *they* were.   
  
Kurt stared down at her, not for the first time marvelling that God should send him Robyn as a second chance to prove himself. He'd been so dejected that day when he found her. Almost suicidal. Everything had been too much: the memories, the guilt, the feeling that nothing was ever going to get better for someone as worthless as him.   
  
Then, lo and behold, she was sent to him. A reason to carry on. She depended on him, and Kurt had sworn on that day that he would protect her with his life.   
  
It was all it was good for anymore, after all.  
  
He opened his arms and enveloped her in a hug. Robyn was surprised for a moment, but returned it in kind.   
  
When he let her go, she looked at him curiously, cocking her head to one side.   
  
"Kurti, are you OK?"   
  
He gave her a wan smile, though his eyes were still harrowingly sad. "Of course I am, Kleines. Of course I am. Now, back to sleep. It's still light out, and no time for the likes of us to be awake." He let her go, and turned back to lie down on the makeshift bed.   
  
"Kurti."   
  
He paused for a moment. "Ja, Kleines?"   
  
"You know I love you, don't you?"   
  
He smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. "I love you too, Robyn."   
  
*******************  
  
"Cripes, Daniels, you really let yourself go."   
  
Pietro found him in the basement, past an amazing array of spikes. Obviously, the boy had tried not to hurt anyone. There were no traces of blood on the walls or ceiling. Only tatters of cloth, pinned by bone. Pietro, now used to reading the evidence, could piece it all together.   
  
The mob chased him until his calcium reserves were so depleted that he broke his own legs in the effort to run. Then they'd beat him and left him to die.   
  
At least it was quicker than the virus. And marginally more merciful.   
  
Pietro knelt beside him. "I dreamed about beating you all my life," he said. "I had it pictured a million different ways. But I never saw your bones turn to powder on you and some bunch of idiots crush what was left..."   
  
Why didn't he feel happy? He and Evan had been fighting for forever. There wasn't a moment between them where they weren't at least bickering over *something*. Pietro had grown used to the challenge.   
  
Now there wasn't any. No more scoring. No more verbal sparring.   
  
No more Evan.   
  
He'd won.   
  
And he'd lost.   
  
Pietro shucked his backpack and carefully cradled the body of his best enemy like a newborn. Then he threw back his head and howled out a lifetime of grief, for as long as he could bear it.   
  
This building wouldn't be finished before dark. It might not be finished ever.   
  
Pietro Maximoff suddenly didn't have anyone to show off at, anymore.  
  
*******************  
  
Kurt was pretending to sleep when a distant cry shattered all possibility of such an activity.   
  
Beside him, Robyn jumped. "Wuzzat?" her ears twitched, trying to locate the source of the sound. "Dog?"   
  
"No," Kurt tilted his head to listen. "Person."   
  
"There's a person here?"   
  
Kurt pushed himself up off the mattress without thinking. "I have to go to them."   
  
Robyn caught hold of his tail, the only body part within reach. "You can't."   
  
"Someone is hurting," Kurt said. "I have to help. Go back to sleep."   
  
"It's light out. I won't let you go," Robyn said resolutely.   
  
"It isn't your choice." Kurt gently unwrapped her fingers from his person.   
  
"But - "   
  
"Do *not* follow me," he said sternly. "I'll be back. I promise."   
  
Then he crawled up through the hole in their ceiling, and was gone.   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro cried for Evan. He cried for all the other friends he had lost. He cried for the sad state of the world. He cried because he didn't know what else to do anymore.   
  
Well, he could at least give his life rival a final courtesy. Like a handshake after a good game. Pietro couldn't remember how their eternal dispute had started, but he was sure that whatever Evan had done, it didn't merit being left to rot away in a basement.   
  
He lay his enemy's body down gently, and went outside to dig a grave.   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt had memories of hiding in shadows. These days, there were none, as the apocalyptic 'war' had shrouded the world in a cloud of dust that simply refused to dissipate. An afterefect of the chemical they used in the anti-virus clouds, he supposed. Like the lack of rain.  
  
He crept along, listening for indications of human activity. The mournful wail had ended, and Kurt had no more than a general idea of where it had come from.   
  
As he progressed slowly westward, his ears began to pick up soft scratching noises. He slid along the edge of a rundown building (not that this state distinguished it from any other building in the city), moving steadily towards the source of the sound.   
  
Someone was shovelling. They had a sniffle, or had recently been crying. Kurt peered cautiously around the corner.   
  
"Pietro?" he gasped.   
  
The white-haired boy jumped and looked around. Kurt edged into view. "Nightcrawler?" Pietro said in surprise. "Man, you look awful."   
  
"Ha-ha," Kurt said tiredly.   
  
"No, seriously." Pietro rose from his kneeling position beside a shallow pit. "I'm honestly not in the mood to insult you right now."   
  
Kurt looked down. He *was* grubby, and even thinner than he used to be. Which was certainly something. "At least I'm alive."   
  
"Did anyone else make it?" Pietro asked, almost daring to sound hopeful.   
  
Kurt shook his head. "Scott, Jean.. Herr Professor.. no. I think Logan must have escaped. Maybe Evan..."   
  
"No." Pietro looked down at his work. "I just found him. Beaten to death."   
  
"Evan?" Kurt was silent for a moment in respect for his old buddy. "What about the Brotherhood?"   
  
"Not sure," Pietro shrugged. "Mystique is probably around somewhere." He laughed mirthlessly. "She's like a cockroach."   
  
"Any non-mutants?"   
  
"Alive? None."   
  
Kurt apparently understood what Pietro had been in the middle of, and crouched to help dig. "I found a child," he said as he worked. "Physical mutations, but no powers yet."   
  
"How old?"   
  
"About five, I think. Not entirely sure."   
  
"Mm," Pietro grunted as he threw a rock to the side. "Shouldn't have to worry about anything suddenly manifesting, then."   
  
"Maybe. Abilities tend to show up when they're most needed, though."   
  
"Yeah." Pietro stood. "I'm going to get Evan," he said, in a tone completely different from the one he used so often when the other boy was alive.   
  
Out of a morbid desire to see his comrade as he had fallen, Kurt followed. In the basement, Evan's body lay twisted and broken, his face set in an expression of pain and fear.   
  
"Evan," Kurt took his friend's cold hand. "I always told you to be careful when skateboarding... I never thought you would go like this." Tears slid down his cheeks, clearing trails through the dust.   
  
Pietro rested a friendly hand on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt raised his eyes to the ceiling. "God, please take Evan's soul," he said. "He was a good guy. A true friend, even if he didn't always know how to show it. He was angry sometimes, but never violent. This..." he looked at the general state of the room. "This is why. I really hope there's a place in heaven for mutants. Give Evan a happy eternity, ja? Tell him - " he choked on a sob, "Tell him K-man says hi..."   
  
He turned his face away, and let Pietro carry the body out into the light.   
  
*******************  
  
"Okay," Evan said as he hovered beside his own grave. "So K-man was right about the whole afterlife thing."   
  
He watched as Pietro lowered his former body into the pit, straightened the limbs into a more natural position, and, with tears in his eyes, threw a handful of dirt over the lifeless face.   
  
In Pietro's hands, the dry soil moved rapidly from the mound back into the hole. As the task was finished, Kurt came outside with two of Evan's bone spikes. Using a bit of twine from his pocket, he fashioned the spikes into a makeshift cross, which he propped at the head of the grave.   
  
"Thanks," Evan said, and meant it. "Both of you. See you around, I guess..." His voice trailed off as he faded from one world into the next.   
  
*******************  
  
Robyn hid, heart beating. Someone was walking around upstairs. And it wasn't Kurti.   
  
"Poppet? Liebchen, it's me. I've - found someone." Kurti appeared in the hole in the roof. "It's all right, love. He's safe. A friend. Gekommen sie[4]. I'd like you to meet him."   
  
Slowly, still afraid, Robyn emerged from hiding. "But... I thought your friends were all dead..."   
  
Kurti came down to her. "Well, in the times before... we were sort of enemies. But now there's no need to fight anymore. And he needs company."   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro was staring at corners, quite unnaturally still for anyone who knew him before things went rotten. But then, there was hardly a point to moving. There was nowhere to run to. Nothing to run from. No-one to run for.   
  
Kurt emerged from the hole with someone in his arms. A little girl who looked like she'd evolved from cats.   
  
"Sure she ain't yours?" he quipped. "Well, she ain't blue, but you can't have everything, you know. I can't have anything. Not even someone to talk to..."   
  
The kid stepped out of Kurt's arms, face open in raw curiosity.   
  
Pietro half-expected her to sniff him.   
  
"Pietro Maximoff, meet Robyn Lefleur. Robyn, Pietro - also known as Quicksilver."   
  
"You can call me Pie-Pie," said Pietro. He used to hate the name. "It's way less flashy than 'Quicksilver'. I've decided to quit being flashy. No good for a grandiose janitor. Gotta keep busy. Gotta keep busy or you go insane..." The corners called for his gaze. "No-one to talk to for years..."   
  
Robyn touched his face. "No fur. Not even a little."   
  
"If it makes you more comfortable, I could try growing a beard," he offered. "Then there'd be three fuzzfaces." He laughed at his own joke, a little hysterically, perhaps, but it felt good to laugh.   
  
Robyn looked to Kurt. "He's sick, isn't he?"   
  
"He'll get better," soothed Kurt. "We'll help him."   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] OK, I'll tell you the story again.  
  
[2] Betrayal.  
  
[3] Loss.  
  
[4] Come out/up. 


	2. Changing Perspectives

*******************  
  
Second Fragment ~ 'Changing Perspectives'  
  
*******************  
  
{Ch-click} "That's far enough, stranger."   
  
Logan was wondering when they'd announce themselves. He'd detected them watching him *miles* back. "Ain't no harm. I'm just wanderin'. Lookin' for friends, dead or alive."   
  
"You won't find no friends here, mutie. We kill your kind if'n they get too close."   
  
Logan sighed. There'd be no names from this little place. "Right," he said. "I'll just move along, then."   
  
He headed downwind. It was a reasonable precaution, given the circumstances.   
  
He'd walked for about five minutes when he heard someone following him.   
  
"If ya wanna kill me, yer welcome to try, bub," he said to his new tail. "Won't help ya none."   
  
A skinny little kid emerged from the brush. She was covered in scales. "Pa said I could go wit' you an' stink up someplace elts," she said.   
  
Great. Babysitting again.   
  
At least he had someone to talk to.  
  
*******************  
  
Robyn crouched, watching. The pale boy hadn't moved in hours, apart from the occasional nervous twitch.   
  
Kurti was asleep again. Being awake all night really took it out of him, so his daylight activities were generally quite limited. She could hear him breathing deeply from inside, but made no move to go in herself. They were safe from prying eyes in the network of wooden planks, and if anyone *did* come a-calling, then they'd be inhibited enough by the debris for her to dart down the hole into relative safety before they reached her.   
  
She crawled forward a few inches, and then stopped. The thin boy was watching her through one slitted eye.   
  
She sat back on her haunches and regarded him curiously.   
  
He had strange eyes. Not dark like hers, but not so bright as Kurti's either. Instead, they were like two burning chips of ice, shot through with broken red lines. An air of madness hung about his gaze, making the fur on the back of her neck prickle. His stare was bleak, yet probing, and it unsettled her more than a little.   
  
"Whatcha looking at?"   
  
Her question must have startled him, because his head jerked up suddenly - much faster than a normal person's. "Staring? Who's staring? Not me. Nu-uh. No staring going on over here," he gabbled without pausing for breath. Then all at once he fell silent again, resuming his vigil of the interlocking beams strewn across the disused building. "So who found this place, anyway? Kinda difficult to find a haven from the mutant hunters these days."   
  
"Kurti brought me here when I was small," Robyn replied matter-of-factly, as if it were a ridiculous question.   
  
"And when exactly was that?"   
  
"Um, I dunno," she screwed up her face in thought. "We think I'm five now, and I've been here as long as I can remember. Kurti says I was about a year old when he found me."   
  
The pale boy twisted his head, mouth open. "You mean you two have been around here for *four years*? And I never knew?" His eyes dropped, stunned. "All that time on my own. Nobody to talk to - well, except for the bodies - and blue-butt was here all along. I never knew. I was so lonely. So terribly lonely. And he was here..."   
  
Worried about his incoherent babbling, Robyn took the opportunity to creep forward a little more. The space between them wasn't much, and soon she hunkered down in front of his body.   
  
Pietro seemed quite shocked when the little cat-girl cupped his face in her warm, furry hands. She had claws, but they were carefully retracted, and she stroked the line of his jaw with one finger.   
  
"You don't have to be lonely no more," she solemnly informed him, soulful eyes meeting his own. "Kurti's nice. He'll look after you, just like he looks after me."   
  
At this, Pietro let out a short, barking laugh. Robyn snatched back her hands, and took a step back in alarm.   
  
"Nightcrawler take care of me? That'll be the day, kid. I've been taking care of myself for as long as I can remember. Even before the virus, I was looking after number one. Nobody ever wanted obnoxious old Pie-Pie around. Too full on for most of 'em. Too fast for the rest. I never needed any of 'em, anyway. Look who survived, huh? That's because I was looking out for myself. So I was lonely. Big deal. I was lonely long before now, too. No friends left. No family. No need. Nobody to look out for but me. And the bodies. Can't forget the bodies." His eyes took on a mad gleam again, and his gaze became unfocused as he talked mainly to himself.   
  
Robyn tilted her head pensively. Finally she took his hand. His fingers weren't as long as her own, nor as flexible, but it hardly mattered. Her fur was soft against his skin, and he jolted out of his trance again to look at her.   
  
  
  
"You can be my other big brother, if you like," she offered innocently. "That way, you don't have to be lonely, because you'll have family. Kurti always says that family chases away the shadows. I don't really know what he means, but maybe... maybe it'll help?"   
  
Pietro surveyed the tiny child. Her frame was painfully thin, though not quite as skeletal as his own. Her dark eyes were huge in her head, and she stared up at him, waiting for him to answer his question.   
  
A little sister?   
  
Wanda was his elder sister by seven whole minutes, as she'd constantly reminded him when they were kids. He'd often wondered what it would be like to have a younger sibling.   
  
Robyn jerked back involuntarily as he sucked in a breath, but unsqueezed her eyes as he said; "Sure. Why not? I'll be your big brother, kid. Stick with me, I'll look after you. Hell, you and Nightcrawler'll be better company than a loada corpses, at any rate."  
  
*******************  
  
"So you just leave her on her own all night?"   
  
"I don't want her to see the bodies. When she was very little, I'd carry her with me, but that stopped when she started playing with the bodies."   
  
Pietro nodded. "Okay. I can get that. You got yourselves a good bolthole, there. Cosy. If I was worried about being hunted, that's where I'd hide."   
  
"You aren't worried about hunters?"   
  
"Ha! We all got too much on our hands trying to keep body and soul together to bother with fighting anymore. And if anyone aims a gun at me - zwoosh! I'm gone."   
  
Kurt sighed. "I don't have the energy to teleport far," he said. "Just FYI. Fainting in a tight spot rarely helps."   
  
"Giving all your food to Robyn?"   
  
"Ja."   
  
"Softie," said Pietro. He cracked a door open and backstepped in a hurry.   
  
Kurt just held his nose as the smell of decay dissipated. "Ja. But I wouldn't be so nice if I wasn't soft."   
  
Pietro dashed inside and opened all the doors and windows, then dashed out again. "Family of four.   
  
They all went together."   
  
Kurt winced. He hated suicide houses.   
  
"Don't worry, Fuzzy. I'll take care of the bodies. You just look for foodstuffs." Pietro smirked. "I'm used to bodies."   
  
"Pietro - I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there. If I had - "   
  
"Been and done, fuzz-butt. Can't change what was. End of story."   
  
Kurt girded himself and headed in. He just wished he *could* change things, that was all.  
  
*******************  
  
"So what's yer name, kid?"   
  
The scaly girl looked up at him, taking five steps for every one of his. "Dad always called me 'Stoopidbitch'. You can too, if'n ya like."   
  
Logan winced. "Nah, I don't think so. Ain't ya got another one?"   
  
"Scaleface."   
  
Another wince. _Jeez, how did this kid get to be this age with parents like that?_ "Anythin' else?"   
  
The little girl looked thoughtful, and then reeled off a mouthful of 'nicknames' that would've made anybody's cheeks red. None of them were either repeatable, or even approaching nice. At the end she just looked up at him again. "Pick one."   
  
_Howza 'bout, none of the above?_ Logan thought grimly. He reckoned the kid must be about ten or eleven, give or take a few months, but it was difficult to tell since her entire emaciated body was wreathed in tough olive scales. A ridge of spikes trailed the length of her back and thick tail, poking through what little clothing she wore.   
  
He sighed. "Got any preferences, kid?" At her blank expression, he explained; "Is there any name you'd *like* me to call you by."   
  
She twisted her face away, staring at her long, claw-like toes. She wore no shoes, so they were on show for the world to see. That was going to make travelling from town to town all the more difficult from now on. But what was he supposed to do? Leave her? Chuck would never forgive him.   
  
Finally, the little tyke said; "Daisy. I once saw a pretty white flower, an' me Dad called it a 'daisy'. Is that OK?"   
  
Logan allowed himself a small smile. The first in many months. "Yeah. that's just fine. Nice name. Good choice."   
  
She hesitated a moment before asking; "What *your* name, sir? If ya don't mind me askin'." She shied away, as if expecting to be hit for such impertinence. Logan suppressed a growl at her family for making her feel that she *would* be struck for such a thing.   
  
"You can me Logan. An' Daisy?"   
  
One yellow eye slitted up at him. "Uh-huh?"   
  
"Drop the 'sir' schtick, OK? Makes me feel old. Just Logan'll do."   
  
She smiled. Just a little one, but a smile nonetheless. "OK, si - Logan. I'd like that."  
  
*******************  
  
They found an abandoned home to hole up in for the night. Logan had made Daisy stay outside while he checked it out for bodies. There was one, and she'd died whilst kneeling by a row of graves. Logan buried her with her kin.   
  
Now they sat by a fire and Logan was bathing the girl. Her dreds turned out to be tangled feathers, never cared for, and occasionally cut by her unsympathetic family. When washed and combed, they were a beautiful peacock blue.   
  
"Ma and Pa never done this," muttered Daisy. She was playing with the bubbles.   
  
"I ain't your Ma and Pa." Logan scrubbed away a mouldering stain left by a wet spill on clothes that were worn non-stop. He brushed a hand backwards up her scales, pulling them back a little. The skin underneath looked slightly frail and maybe a little infected. He pressed the area gently. "Does that hurt?"   
  
"Tickles," said Daisy.   
  
Nothing a little Bactine and some TLC wouldn't cure. Right. Logan reached into his pack and bought the antiseptic and a clean cloth out. "This might sting a li'l."   
  
Daisy watched. "What'd I do wrong?"   
  
"This could be infected," Logan tapped the soft scales, indicating to the skin underneath. "See how it bubbles? Could be bad for ya. I'm gonna lance the skin - poke holes in the bad part - then I'm gonna douse it in this stuff. It'll make the bad bits go away, but it's gonna hurt."   
  
Daisy nodded. She didn't flinch at his blades, just watched everything with fascination. She didn't even hiss at the touch of antiseptic.   
  
"There. All done. Gonna have to let that air dry for a while. Keep an eye on it."   
  
Daisy stepped out of the bath and made for her clothes.   
  
"No ya don't, shortstuff. You're not wearin' them."   
  
Daisy froze. She looked a little scared. "Are you like Pa's friends? They like t' get me nekkid an' do things on me."   
  
Logan *really* began to wish he'd killed that sonofabitch. "No. You're gettin' new clothes. Stay warm by the fire. I'll scare us up something for you to wear."   
  
"But I ain't grown outta these," she said. "They're still good."   
  
Logan smirked a little. "I can find better, and what I say goes, got it?"   
  
Daisy flinched.   
  
Logan turned away and went searching. He hadn't even raised his voice. _If I ever cross that bastard's path again, I'm gonna kill the fucker._   
  
Logan didn't exactly need candles or lanterns, but he could bet the kid would. He'd have to raid the place for extra supplies.   
  
He found a bunch of clothes that'd fit - with alterations - and bought the pile back to the fire.   
  
Daisy's eyes went wide. "Them're all too pretty..."   
  
"You arguin' with me?" he said.   
  
"Um." Daisy cringed. "No sir?"   
  
"Pity. I like the odd argument. Good for the blood." He settled down and bought out his sewing kit. His work would all be done with white cotton, but he doubted Daisy would much care.   
  
"Don't only women sew?"   
  
"Maybe in your house," Logan allowed. "But where I come from, everyone had to know everythin'   
  
'bout how things were made. Made you appreciate 'em. And a close friend o' mine had to alter every set of pants he ever owned. Had a tail, like you do. I got to pick up his technique. Hold still a bit..." He measured her tail's circumference at the base, then took the number from the bottom to top of where it joined her back. Not that much, but he made a little extra allowance for growth.   
  
Daisy watched him cut and stitch. "Whoah. I never had no-one sew my holes afore."   
  
"It's 'cause I care, Daisy. You make things for people, they know you care. Makes 'em feel better."   
  
"Pa used t' say the best thing I coulda done for the house is die when I was born."   
  
"Your Pa's an asshole." Logan finished the work on her underpants and gave them to her. "There. Put 'em on, tell me I did it right."   
  
Daisy did as she was bade. Her tail started wagging and she smiled behind one hand. "Feels a might better than the 'ole way."   
  
"Good." Logan started on a pair of jeans. "When I'm done with the clothes, we'll see if you can wear shoes."   
  
"*Really*? Real shoes?"   
  
"Yup. Real shoes. I travel a lotta rough roads, darlin'. Don't want you laggin' behind 'cause of sore feet."   
  
Daisy was staring at him in awe. "Are you my fairy godfather? Like in Cinderella? You gonna make me beautiful?"   
  
Logan threw his head back and laughed.  
  
Instantly Daisy cringed, covering her head. Then, very slowly, she realised that Logan was *happy* with what she'd said. Pa had never laughed at anything. Or if he did, there was a belt involved.   
  
"I ain't no fairy godfather," he said. "Time was when nobody alive'd even think like that. Nah. I just care." He handed her the jeans. "Try those on for size, then see if any of those shirts fit."   
  
"If'n you pardon? You're very strange."   
  
"I'm old, I'm entitled." Logan began working on a set of overalls. "I still believe everyone's got their rights, an I tend to feel compelled to uphold 'em."   
  
"Rights?" Daisy was starting to feel very stupid. Logan was talking about things she'd never even heard of.   
  
"Hell yeah. Rights are something ya gotta have. Somethin' ya need. And it used to be that if those rights were withheld, the law'd step in to see ya got 'em. F'r instance. Everyone has the right to learn. Can you read and write?"   
  
"I don't even know what read and write *is*." Daisy hung her head.   
  
"No time like the present." Logan popped a claw and etched a symbol on the floor. "This is 'A'. You use it to start words like 'apple' or 'ask'."   
  
Daisy traced the symbol, following the way Logan had made it. "A," she said. "Apple an' ask... an' avoid?"   
  
Logan smiled. "Yeah. That's the ticket." He put another symbol next to it. "This is 'B'..."  
  
*******************  
  
Pietro winced as he finished covering the last grave. He wiped a sheen of sweat from his brow, glancing up to see what Fuzzy was up to.   
  
Kurt clung to the side of a dilapidated building a little distance off, scouting ceaselessly for hunters while the blonde boy finished in his terrible, yet necessary task. His face was away from the line of shallow mounds, and his tail twitched rapidly in the dying light.   
  
Since Pietro's sight wasn't so good at night, they'd started foraging much earlier than usual, and Kurt was nervy. Daylight was when the hunters were abroad, and a dangerous time for a mutant.   
  
Zipping effortlessly to stand beneath him, Pietro called up to his new companion. "Hey, Nightcrawler. All done here."   
  
Kurt started, and stared down at him. Within seconds he'd skittered down the brickwork. "Not so *loud*!" he berated, frowning. "You may be able to escape any hunters, but I can't without difficulty."   
  
For a moment, Pietro looked guilty - an odd, somewhat disturbing expression on his usually obnoxious face. "Sorry," he shrugged. "Not used to thinking about anyone other then me. Have to work on that. Ready to go?" He strung all the words together so fast that it took a moment for Kurt to translate and respond.   
  
"Jawohl. Where to?"   
  
"There's a tower block a few streets from here I haven't checked out yet. Might be something inside we can use."   
  
Kurt looked around. "We're pretty far from home already. I don't like leaving Robyn alone like that. If something were to happen, I couldn't get back in time."   
  
Pietro blinked. "How the heck have you two been *surviving* if you don't stray more than two miles at a time?"   
  
"With great difficulty." Kurt's face was grim, and he sighed. "But this time I'll have to deal. How many streets did you say?"   
  
"I didn't, but it's three. Thataway." He indicated with a careless gesture, and hopped from foot to foot to be off.   
  
At a much slower pace than the speed-demon would've liked, they set out down the route he'd indicated. Pietro kept dashing ahead and then back again, whining at the furry mutant to hurry up.   
  
"Pick up the *pace*, wouldja Nightcrawler! I've seen snails in a drought go faster than you!"   
  
"You know," Kurt said, not increasing his speed at all, "You don't have to call me by my codename anymore. Since we're not on opposing teams and all."   
  
At this, Pietro stopped. He considered the offer. "I s'pose. Mutantkind is just one big team now. Old habits are hard to break though. Mystique taught us to hate you X-Men. That's why we preferred calling you by codenames instead of proper ones. It made it easier to see you as enemies rather than just other kids."   
  
Kurt hopped over a pile of debris. "I don't think I'd say Mutantkind is just a big team," he said.   
  
"What'd you call it, then?"   
  
"A family. You look out for your family, and they look out for you. That's the only way any of us'll survive anymore, is if we look out for each other."   
  
Family?   
  
The word struck a chord in Pietro. Family was something he'd wanted all his life. In childhood, it was something he'd had, too. Back when he and Wanda lived together.   
  
Memories of his twin sprang to mind, and he unwillingly found himself considering her fate outside of the rest of humanity. The last he'd known, she was still in that mental institution. Most probably dead now. He remembered his last look at her when they were kids; trussed up and wheeled away on a trolley, drugged up to the eyeballs so that she didn't even know who *she* was, let alone recognise him.   
  
Restrained, there would've been no way she could've escaped when the virus came. From what he could recall, the doctors and nurses in that place had been out primarily for their own skins. If a whiff of the deadly disease had permeated the institution, then there was no way they would've stopped and risked their own necks to release the patients. He could only hope they hadn't discovered Wanda was a mutant too. Scapegoats were always sought out and mistreated in times of crisis.   
  
Shaking his head, Pietro caught up with the elf, who was waiting for him several feet up ahead. Kurt raised an eyebrow at the blonde's pensive expression, but said nothing.   
  
They carried on in silence.  
  
*******************  
  
The figure stumbled, rubble shifting and making it fall to its knees. They were cut and bleeding anyway, but new scratches added themselves to the array of injuries at the fall.   
  
Instead of picking itself up, it sat there in the dust, moaning. Its cry was wordless, but bleak; palpable melancholy hanging over it like a mantle. Had anyone been around to hear, they would've shivered.   
  
But there was nobody about. There was never anybody there anymore.   
  
That was the reason the figure cried.   
  
Gradually, words became evident in the wailing. "Gone. All gone. All of them gone." The tragic outline of a person hung its head, coughing slightly as the ever-present dust got into its throat. Its voice was husky, making gender indistinguishable, and its clothes were torn and ragged. "All gone," it murmured softly, "All gone, gone, gone."   
  
After many minutes of this, it finally sighed and heaved to its feet. Not bothering to dust itself off, it stumbled on through the cloying fog. There was no idea where this was. No monoliths or buildings loomed up, and no people hove into view. Everywhere looked the same these days. Barren, and desolate, and dead.   
  
How far to Bayville now? Was there even a Bayville left to go back to? Perhaps it would've been wiser to head south. But no, Bayville was where family was. Bayville was the place to go. The south was a pretty memory, but Bayville was much clearer to the mental eye. Everything had been so confusing recently. Mixed memories, alien thoughts clashing together inside. Things were blurred, but one thing remained clear.   
  
Bayville. Had to get to Bayville.   
  
"Gone, all gone," came the mournful cry again. But still, there was nobody around to hear it, and eventually it too disappeared into the mist with its androgynous owner.  
  
*******************  
  
"Tell you what," Pietro finally announced. "I find the stuff, and you hold some of it while I get more. Then I'll take both loads to your little cubbyhole and get *another* two loads and - "   
  
"Bad idea," said Kurt. "What if one of us comes across some hunters?"   
  
"I'm too fast for them, and I'll warn you so you can pop on outta here. Or I'll carry you. I can."   
  
Kurt sighed. "As long as you know what you're doing."   
  
"I *always* know what I'm doing. Relax. What could go wrong?[1]"   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Famous last words.  
  
******************* 


	3. Hope

A/N: There was actually a *big* clue about who the mysterious figure was in the last chapter. Plus, I have concept sketches of both Daisy and Robyn if anybody is interested. Just say so, and I'll email them to curious parties.  
  
*******************  
  
Third Fragment ~ 'Hope'  
  
*******************  
  
She was safe with him. She knew that instinctively. Whenever they travelled, she clung close to him, clinging tight to an arm that he wasn't using.   
  
They were slow, now. Slower than he really liked. They had to keep moving. Go from one place to another. Beg, steal or loot supplies, and then move on. Because they could both pass, but never for long enough to settle anywhere.   
  
The last town they hit had a baby shop, and even though he didn't like it, she insisted on raiding it. They needed stuff. She was getting big, now, and that meant that the baby would be coming, soon.   
  
Now the back of the jeep was full of things. A pram that turned into a stroller. A cot that folded up. A baby seat for the car. Bottles and formula, just in case, and all the diapers and little clothes they could grab. Most of it was packed under their tent - a palace stolen from a camping store.   
  
He was seriously considering swapping the jeep for a Winnebago - and fitting it with truck tyres. It'd be easier. It'd hold more supplies. And he could arm it like a tank.   
  
She grunted in pain again. It'd been going on like this for days. Ten minutes, and her big belly felt like it was going to implode. Then peace for another ten minutes.   
  
"It's all right, Kitty-Kat," he soothed. "I'm gonna find someplace clean for you. It's gonna be okay. Just hang on."   
  
"Still ten minutes," she said. "I think. The book said we don't gotta worry until they're five minutes apart."   
  
Lance gave her the clock to wind. "Here. Make sure."   
  
It gave her something to do. She set the clock to midday on the latest contraction and started winding.   
  
They weren't exactly in love; but they were the last two of their kind on Earth. They had to do it. For the future.   
  
Lance stopped at a bunch of buildings and started running, looking through them all for someplace clean. Someplace safe.   
  
Like such a place even truly existed anymore.  
  
*******************  
  
Kurt grunted as Pietro zipped up and loaded him up with yet more stuff. Peeping around the armload, he found that he couldn't actually see anything edible in what he was being given.   
  
"Hey, you *are* getting food, aren't you?"   
  
{ZIP} "Uh-huh," Pietro waved a bag of moth-eaten chips at him. "Whatever I can find. I'm up to the fourth floor now."   
  
"How many floors *are* there?"   
  
"About twenty, give or take," he shrugged. "I'm gonna hafta stop raiding soon to clear up the bodies."   
  
Kurt winced. "Are there many?"   
  
"Enough." Pietro's face was blank, but his eyes spoke volumes. The bag of chips were tossed unceremoniously into Kurt's arms, and he was gone again, reappearing a moment later before the dust of his departure had even settled. "That's it for now. I'd better take this little lot back."   
  
The two boys transferred the mass of belongings and foodstuffs, and Kurt snatched at a piece of fabric that went fluttering to the floor.   
  
"What's this?" He held it up to the moonlight, studying the contours and realising it was a small child's dress, replete with frilly collar and cuffs. Pietro grabbed at it without seeming to move, secreting the material where it wouldn't fall off.   
  
"What's it look like?"   
  
"But why on earth did you take *that*?"   
  
"For Robyn, of course. Little tyke's in serious need of some new threads."   
  
Kurt squinted, a tiny smile playing about the edges of his lips. "Careful, Pietro, you're going soft."   
  
The blonde only grunted, tensed his legs and started running. He was halfway down the street before Kurt turned around. The elf sighed to himself and prepared to wait until his newfound companion returned.   
  
Gradually, the sounds of footsteps ceased as Pietro moved out of earshot, and Kurt slunk into the lee of the building where he was hidden from view, crouching down to conserve energy as he kept watch.  
  
*******************  
  
Kitty groaned, clutching at his hand. "Lance! Lance, it's coming!"   
  
Lance glanced around them fearfully. Not now, they weren't ready. He held her up as best he could, but she kept doubling over in pain and having to stop.   
  
"Come on, Pretty-Kitty," he soothed, rubbing her back. "Just a few more feet, and we'll be at the door."   
  
Tears streamed down Kitty's face. "I can't! I can't do it, Lance! It hurts too much to..... aaauuurghhh," she bent forward again, hugging her swollen belly.   
  
"Well we can't stay out here," Lance replied shortly, then instantly felt bad about being so brusque. She couldn't help it if she was in pain, but an open street in the middle of the day was no place to rest. This place wasn't especially huge, from what he could tell, but mutant haters had been known to hang around smaller. And he'd be damned if he were about to let any of those scum find them so unprotected.   
  
Unconsciously, his hand strayed to the handgun at his belt. Kitty often complained about his having stolen it, especially back at the beginning. Back in Illinois. That was when there had still been hope of finding other survivors, before they began this long trek into the wilderness in an attempt to find others of their kind. There had been none, but they'd found other, less welcoming folk. So he'd kept the gun.   
  
Kitty screeched again in agony, and Lance snapped from his thoughts to haul her to her feet. He was rough, but terror cancelled out any excess feelings of remorse. He stank of stale sweat and fear, while she smelled strongly of bodily juices usually confined to hospitals and birthing pools. Both were tense as they staggered through the permanently open sliding doors of the abandoned doctor's surgery.   
  
Kitty slumped down onto the waiting couch, too spent to go further. Lance looked around nervously, before finally deciding to shut the glass doors. He'd found another exit in back, and felt better about not advertising their presence with her wails leaking of the building out so much.   
  
"Lance!" Kitty cried, groping blindly for his hand. "Lance! Where are you?"   
  
He was at her side in an instant, holding her palm and stroking her damp forelock. Her dark glasses had slipped, revealing the sightless white orbs ringed in angry red scars beneath, and he gently pushed them back into place, all the while shushing her as best he could.   
  
"Shhhhh, Kitty-Kat, it's OK. It's OK, I'm here."   
  
"I'm frightened, Lance," she whimpered pathetically. "It hurts so mu... hu... huuuuuuucchhh!" Another contraction. She screwed up her face, biting her lip to hold in the scream until blood flowed.   
  
Lance glanced about them, and with his free hand patted her bulbous midriff. "S'gonna be OK, Kitty. I promise. S'gonna be OK."   
  
She sniffed, craning her neck towards the sound of his voice. Lance dutifully leaned his head towards her, and rested his cheek on the crown of her skull.   
  
"It's OK, Kitty. I'll see you right, I promise. I'll see you right."  
  
*******************  
  
Kurt's head jerked up at the sound of the first anguished scream. A few seconds later, Pietro skidded up. "What is it?"   
  
"I hear something. Shhhh..."   
  
Another distant cry, this time loud enough for Pietro to hear. "Whoa. What *is* that?"   
  
"Someone's hurting. Quiet again."   
  
There was a moment of calm, then a loud scream tore the silence. "This way!" Kurt took off, darting between too buildings, avoiding a couple of bodies strewn in alleys as he went.   
  
"What about mutant hunters?" Pietro had no trouble keeping up with him, even though he was running on all fours.   
  
"I recognise that yelling," Kurt panted, pushing himself to the limits of his speed and darting around a corner. "That's a birth-cry."   
  
"What?! How do you know?!"   
  
A sob rent the air, and now they were getting close enough to hear a response to it. A male voice, yelling something indiscernible.   
  
Kurt came to a halt in front of a former doctor's office, and glanced wryly at Pietro before starting his work on opening the glass door. "I grew up in a small town. Close-knit. How else would I know?"   
  
With a grunt, he pulled the hastily sealed doors open.   
  
*******************  
  
Between Kitty's screams and his own bellowed responses, Lance was able to make out some kind of noise outside the doors. "Kitty," he said, a little loudly to be heard over her laboured[1] breathing, "I'll be right back. I... I think there's someone outside."   
  
She nodded as best she could before tensing up and screaming once again. Lance bolted for the door.   
  
The first thing he saw was... some kind of demon?!   
  
No, no. It had to be a mutant. Who else would look like that?   
  
In some distant part of his mind, Lance wondered how such an obvious mutant had survived...   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt saw the dishevelled boy come skidding up to within a few feet of the door, saw the panicked, then relieved look on his face, and motioned he was no enemy by raising his palms.   
  
"Relax," he said, pushing the door open as he spoke, "We're here to help."   
  
Back to panicked. "It's my girl, she-"   
  
"Ja, I figured. I'm experienced with this sort of thing. Would you like my help?"   
  
"Oh, man, that would be - "   
  
"OK, she's back here, right?" Kurt walked past him briskly, and called up all his reserves of strength for what was to come.   
  
Pietro, meanwhile, was utterly confused about what to do. Thinking quickly, as he always did, he shut the doors behind him, then set about soundproofing the building and setting up defences at super-speed. _There. That oughta do it._   
  
Now what to do?   
  
He walked with some trepidation, and with very little of his usual speed, into the room that held all the others. _Oof. This is not gonna be pretty._   
  
*******************  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!"   
  
"It's all right, Kitty. I'm here." Lance grabbed her hand, gesturing for help.  
  
"You're name's Kitty?" said a voice. "I'm Kurt. This is Pietro."   
  
"Hi," said another.   
  
"He runs, I teleport. What do you do?"   
  
"She goes through things, I make earthquakes," said Lance.   
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!"   
  
"OK. OK. Breathe, Kätzchen. Breathe, like this. 'Ha. Ha. Ho. Ho.' You try."   
  
"Ha. Ha. Ho. Ho. Ha. Ha. Ho. Ho."   
  
"See? Childbirth is fun, ja? You're laughing already."   
  
"'M gonna frikkin' kill ya..." she muttered. "Ha. Ha. Ho. Ho. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"   
  
{Zwip. Zwip} "Found some rubber gloves, some sterilising solution and a buncha towels."   
  
"Sehr gut. I'll get her pants off and set things up. You scrub."   
  
"*ME*?"   
  
"You're the only one who can fit into the gloves, and I have no time to shave. The kid's engaged and the water's broken. *Move*!" Kurt smiled. "It's okay. I've done this dozens of times."   
  
"Ha. Ha. Ho. Ho..." Kitty whimpered. Movement, and hands touching her skin. Lance tightened his grip.  
  
"Okay, I'm ready," said Pietro. "What do I do?"   
  
"Get ready to catch," said Kurt.   
  
"Eeeeyyeeeeeeeuuuwwww..." muttered Pietro. "This is *sick*..."   
  
"Feel up there and see if she's fully dilated," said Kurt. "Or how far through the baby is."   
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!"   
  
"Nyeurgh..." Pietro did as he was told. "Okay. Um. I think the baby's head is jammed."   
  
Kurt slathered his fuzzy arm in the sterilising solution to verify. "Ja. It's stuck."   
  
Lance, sounding alarmed. "Whazzat mean?"   
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!"   
  
"Either the baby dies, Kätzchen dies, or they both die."   
  
"Fuck that," said Lance. "Kitty? Kitty-Kat? Can you phase just you? I know you haven't done it since   
  
you tested positive, but it's okay, now. You gotta."   
  
Kitty frowned, concentrating.   
  
"Whoah!" said Kurt. He was suddenly holding both baby and placenta.  
  
"Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah. Ah," Kitty panted, returning to normal. "That was like, *way* easier."   
  
Pietro returned with forceps, a bowl of water, and yet more towels. Together, he and Kurt washed the little girl.   
  
Lance hugged her. "You did good, sweetie. You did good. It's a little girl. Pretty like you."   
  
"You said there weren't any others," she panted. "You said we were alone."   
  
"I never saw these people before. Kitty-Kat, I didn't know."   
  
"We hide a lot," said Kurt. "When you look like me, you have to." He handed a mewling bundle into Kitty's arms. "Here, Mama. Meet your little baby."   
  
Kitty proudly accepted, for the moment ignoring his strange words. Look like him? Later. "Hello?"   
  
The baby blinked. Then she sneezed. Then she started smacking her lips.   
  
"Best give her a drink, ja?" said Kurt. "Does she have a name?"   
  
"Hope," breathed Kitty. "Hope Pryde." She undid her shirt and rearranged baby and breast. She winced. "*Ow*!"   
  
Kurt smiled. "Good reflexes. She's a fighter."   
  
"Lance Alvers," said Lance, offering his hand.   
  
Kurt took it. "Kurt Wagner."  
  
Pietro declined shaking hands, since he still wore the gunky gloves he'd fetched. Instead, he settled for a quick wave to the newcomers, before zipping into the back to dispose of said gloves.   
  
Kitty smiled to herself, listening to her new baby's suckling noises and feeling around until she could stroke her hair. It was damp with afterbirth, but soft, like wet peach fuzz. She'd have to ask Lance later what colour it was. She could feel Hope's skull pulsing slightly, and immediately retracted her hand to steady her tiny shoulder instead. The little girl broke contact with the milk for a moment, rubbing her nose, and then mewled when she couldn't find the teat again.   
  
"Shhhhh," Kitty soothed, guiding her back into place.   
  
The two remaining mutants looked on, smiling. The sight of mother and newborn is one that has warmed hearts for many millennia, and they were going through the same satisfaction of bringing a life into the world as doctors and nurses used to before everything went wrong.   
  
"Are you two married?" Kurt asked after a while.   
  
Lance shook his head. "We used to live in the same town. We were the only two mutants in our school, so we were kinda left on our own a lot of the time. Nobody wanted to consort with 'muties'." There was a hint of bitterness to his tone, and Kurt nodded, able to identify.   
  
"So, you ran away together to get away from all the hatred."   
  
Lance looked up at him, surprised. "How did you - "   
  
"Obvious, when you think about it. Two mutants travelling together, alone in a place they don't come from." He waved his hand outside where the jeep was in plain view. They hadn't had time to move it since Kitty went into labour, and it was as much of an indication that they weren't from around here as a flashing neon sign.   
  
Lance bobbed his head, sighing. "We thought we were the only two left... after the virus. We just kept searching for others, but in every town we either found nobody, or humans who wanted nothing more than to shoot us. Then Kitty got pregnant, but we had to keep going. There was nowhere to take us in, no place to go. Until we found you guys. This place must be better than most if there are two of you living here."   
  
"Don't kid yourself," Kurt replied darkly. "This place is no picnic, and definitely no safe haven for mutants. Pietro and I have only survived this long because we have means of getting away from mutant hunters if the need arises."   
  
Lance's face fell. "So... it's back on the road for us, then." He heaved a dejected breath, and let it go through his nose. "Shoulda known."   
  
Kurt shook his head. "It's probably better if you stay around here for a while, until your Kätzchen and Hope are stronger. I'll help you hide your stuff," he jerked a thumb out of the glass doors at the jeep, "And Pietro'll stay here to watch over them for a while."   
  
Lance bit his lip, glancing around nervously. "I dunno... I don't like leaving Kitty alone if I can help it. Her eyes, you see," here, he dropped his voice to a low whisper, as if not wanting the new mother to hear him. "When we were back in Connecticut, not long before we left, we ran into a group of thugs coming home from school one day. They were idiots, always raggin' on us for being mutants. Usually it didn't go much further than that, but that day they went too far. One of 'em had some kinda chemical he'd stolen from the chem lab. I dunno what it was, exactly. He threw it into Kitty's eyes. Blinded her."   
  
"Is that why you left?" Kurt's voice was also low, and his golden eyes darted to the pony-tailed girl's sunglasses.   
  
"It was one reason, along with a load of others. We just couldn't stand it anymore. All the snide comments, the jabs, the insults in the street. Nobody stuck up for us, not even our own families. Mine threw me out as soon as they found out I was a 'freak'. That attack just hammered home to us that we had no future in that place. After school, who'd give a 'stinking mutie' a job? So we high-tailed it outta there one night together and just kept going ever since. Even when the virus came. We just kept going. Never stopped for long if we could help it. But today, well..." He waved his arm at the suckling baby.   
  
"All the more reason why you should hide your things," Kurt advised. "You're vulnerable like this. No point in making it easier for the hunters."   
  
As if on cue, Pietro zipped back into the room, freshly scrubbed and smelling of carbolic soap. "What's the haps, chaps?" he asked.   
  
Lance gave the white-haired boy a dubious look. There was something a little *too* cheerful about him. His grin was just that little bit *too* wide, and a spark of madness danced in his blue eyes.   
  
"Pietro," Kurt stepped forward. "I'm going to take Herr... Alvers was it?"   
  
Lance nodded.   
  
"Herr Alvers out to hide his vehicle. You stay here and take care of Kätzchen and baby Hope."   
  
"Huh? What am I supposed to do with 'em?"   
  
Kurt turned back from where he was already heading for the sliding doors. "Clean them up a bit. Afterbirth and bad blood attracts dogs, and barking attracts hunters."   
  
Pietro watched them go, and then regarded his unsavoury task. "Oh *great*. And I just got clean, too."  
  
*******************  
  
This particular town in the middle of Podunk, Nowhere was dead. Logan could smell it. Nothing lived here, and nothing had lived here for a long time. Two, maybe three years. Even the dogs and the scavengers had left.   
  
And yet, there was singing.   
  
"A, B, C, D, E, F, G..." Daisy was skipping. Actively skipping through the dead streets. "H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P! Q, R, S, T, U, V... W, X, Y and Z! Now I know my A, B, C! Won't you come and sing with me?"   
  
The irony made him grin. So far, Daisy had played in a park, trying each of the swings, the teeter-totter and the roundabout before 'just five more minutes' on the jungle-gym before Logan finally announced that enough was enough and they had to look for things they could use.   
  
Daisy found a shopping trolley and wanted a ride in it.   
  
The stores in the place were looted - Logan didn't expect any less - but there were enough gleanings to keep them both healthy until they found another town to go through. And plenty of trade-items like batteries, candles, cooking pots and bug repellents.   
  
Then Logan realised that Daisy had wandered off. Alarmed, he abandoned his loot and followed her scent. Kid could be damn quiet when she wanted to be.   
  
"T, H, E," Daisy was saying, spelling letters like a pro, "G, O, D, D, E, S, S... L, O, V, E, S... Y, O, U."   
  
He found her standing near a gardening display that had been completely cleaned out.   
  
"The Goddess loves you," he read. "What in hell?"   
  
Daisy was staring at him as if he'd done magic. "How'd'ja do that?"   
  
"Remember how I told ya letters started words?"   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"They make words, too." He pointed out the 'th' in 'the'. "Those two together make a 'th' sound."   
  
"Th," repeated Daisy. "The. Them. They. There. Thursday?"   
  
"Yup. Sometimes it's hard, and sometimes, it's soft. You're pickin' it up quick, kid."   
  
Daisy had a stab at it. "The God-dess lov-es you."   
  
"Loves. That 'e' is silent."   
  
"How can you tell?"   
  
"Practice." Logan smirked. "Which is why I picked up a buncha books for you on my way through. Ready to get packed?"   
  
"Can we have lunch?"   
  
"Yeah. I'll rustle us up something," Logan grinned, "And you read to me while I do it."   
  
"But I'm awful slow."   
  
"Only way you're gonna get better is by doin', kiddo."  
  
*******************  
  
The jeep was loud. Too loud. Years of driving through the dust had caused the engine to develop the equivalent of a smoker's cough, and it hacked obstreperously as they turned the corner.   
  
Lance shot a look at his unorthodox companion. The blue mutant - Kurt - was perched bird-like on the passenger seat, knees up to his chin and golden eyes round. The tail, which disconcerted Lance more than he let on, whipped about nervously, trailing through the grime on the floor and flicking up discarded sweet wrappers and other various packaging from past meals he and Kitty-Kat had managed to scrounge.   
  
"Turn here," came the sudden command, accompanied by a thrusting finger out of the window. Obediently, Lance dropped a screeching gear and yanked the wheel around to the right. "Stop!"   
  
The vehicle chugged to itself, stationary, as Kurt hopped out. He didn't bother with a door, instead using the open window as an exit and landing with a faint 'floomph' in the dirt. He pattered forward, checking the ostensibly solid wall they'd come to rest in front of.   
  
Lance leaned out. "Hey, why're we stopping here? S'a dead end."   
  
Kurt shushed him, and felt along the brickwork. The older boy watched in amazement as one of the bricks abruptly moved, and a large square shifted in the centre of the entire wall. Filth skittered off as the ancient garage door tilted and opened. It had been hidden by layers of dirt and solidified dust, but now clankingly slid open to allow them entrance.   
  
Kurt beckoned hurriedly, and Lance did as he was bade, shoving the jeep into gear and edging into the secret alcove until he was sure the door wouldn't slam shut on his rear. Then he cut the engine and climbed out.   
  
"How the heck did you know about this place?"   
  
Kurt looked around him, at the rows upon rows of gadgets and various mechanical bits and bobs strewn haphazardly across the floor. One or two he recognised as experiments that had never taken off; although there were other's he didn't know and wondered what they'd been intended for.   
  
"This place hasn't changed," he murmured sadly. "It used to belong to a friend of mine, back before the virus came. There was an... incident, whereby I liberated him from a prison he'd been trapped in for twenty years. I was running from a mob and accidentally fell into his lab. Turned on a machine that set him free. Except," he spread his hands wide, encapsulating the outside world into the gesture, "All he had to come back to was this mess. The virus took him out when it was initially used. One of the first."   
  
Lance laid a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Hey, I'm sorry man. I didn't realise."   
  
Kurt shrugged, wondering if the elder teen would be so willing to offer comfort that way if there wasn't a trenchcoat covering his fur. He'd often found that even other mutants balked at his having fur. At least, they had when they were still around, anyway.   
  
"We'd better move," he advised, slipping from Lance's grasp and out of the door. "Take what you need for now. We can come back for more when you and your Kätzchen have somewhere safer to stay than that doctor's surgery."   
  
Lance moved to the back of the jeep and retrieved a cardboard box. Evidently, they'd planned ahead for if this happened. Kurt nodded, glad of the forethought. Though it was now night-proper, he didn't like being in the open for long. Too risky. The hunters hadn't been spotted for several weeks now, which was always a bad sign. They'd be getting itchy, and he didn't want to be in their path when they decided to scratch.   
  
The two boys left the garage, and Kurt found the dusty control panel that could've passed for a brick beneath the grime encrusted on it. With the press of a button, the door crunched back into place.   
  
A small tear gathered at the corner of one pale eye. "Thank you, Forge, mein Freund," he whispered, before turning tail leading his new companion away.  
  
*******************  
  
"What's it like?"   
  
"You're scared at first. You think you're never going to cope. You'll never do anything again. And then you - y'know - find something. Something you can do and it's like - pow! Epiphany."   
  
"I think I'm glad I didn't go insane," said Kitty. "At least I had someone to talk to."   
  
"Talking to dead people's not so bad," said Pietro. "They don't argue much. And if you know 'em enough, you can make up a decent other half to the conversation. Used t' have a few regular ghosts, once. But they went away. Always meeting new people, me. Always having something to do." Pietro busied himself with something. Kitty could her him tapping. Maybe he was drumming his fingers. "What about you? What's blindness like?"   
  
"Red," said Kitty. "All I can see is red. Whatever they put in my eyes, I think it sorta melted them. Or filled them with blood. Whatever. It's just all one colour, and nothing else. I have to feel for things, listen for them, or smell them, now. Once? I didn't know anything from anything. I had to rely on Lance's word." Kitty smiled. "I used to be such a chatterbox. Talking about the least little thing... 'M tired..."   
  
"Hope's asleep," said Pietro. "I got a little crib thing for her. Clean sheets an' all..."   
  
"No. Thanks. I... um."   
  
"Don't wanna trust the baby to a madman? Hey, I can deal with that. Good instincts. If I were a new Mom, I wouldn't trust me with her, either. She's your little precious. The best thing that ever happened to you." More tapping. "Damnit. I'm jealous. Fuzzy gets a kid. You get a kid. Why can't *I* ever have any fun?"   
  
"Fuzzy?" said Kitty. "What do you mean?"   
  
"German boy. He's covered in blue fur. You couldn't tell?"   
  
"I *was* pre-occupied, you know."   
  
An abrupt laugh. "Yeah. I can guess."   
  
*******************  
  
"What's it like?"   
  
"The fur, the living here, or the tail?"   
  
"All of the above." Lance shrugged.   
  
Kurt grinned. "The fur's handy in winter. A bit of a bitch in summer. I have to brush so I don't leave fur anywhere. Keeping clean is an obsession - which is why I picked us a house with water."   
  
"Us? You and Pietro?"   
  
"No, I only found him yesterday. Robyn and I." Kurt braked. "Robyn! Ach! Stay here, I won't be a minute." He galloped away into the gloom, only to return with twice the number of footfalls. "Lance, this is Robyn LeFleur. I found her - and named her, actually. Robyn, this is Lance. I found him, too. But I didn't name him...uh..." He trailed off, then returned to his feet and began leading them. "Gekommen sie, we need to hurry."   
  
"Why?" asked Lance.   
  
"Full moon. The hunters like full moons."   
  
"What's it like?" said Robyn to Lance. "Having skin like that?"   
  
Lance could only shrug. "I dunno. It's normal."   
  
*******************  
  
A different figure tramped along the road, pushing a barrow. Unlike any other trader, this humble merchant bore something more precious - plants.   
  
Living plants.   
  
There were lights, too, in the wagon, and generators rigged to get power out of human energy. Everything a person could need to grow green things.   
  
Green things, and the love of the Goddess.   
  
The figure was, at a distance, of indeterminate gender. But if one were to move closer to the softly-singing merchant, one would have realised he was a man. A man in a plain khaftan, sandals, and a reed hat. He wore a pendant with a symbol on it. The symbol of the Goddess.   
  
An X contained in a circle.   
  
He was a man on a mission. Go forth, She had said unto them, and spread the seeds of peace. The seeds of hope and co-operation. And when all were working towards one common goal, she would make the skies weep, and the sun come out again, and all the green, growing things she nurtured would flourish and a new age would dawn.   
  
But there was no-one on this road. There hadn't been for miles.   
  
He didn't mind. It gave him more time to sing Her praises.   
  
Or sing any song that came to mind, really.   
  
He liked singing. And pushing the barrow, thus generating light for the plants.   
  
The seeds of hope and faith.  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Literally!  
  
******************* 


	4. Fools and Children

*******************  
  
Fourth Fragment ~ 'Fools and Children'  
  
*******************  
  
Pietro looked up as the glass door slid open. "Hey, Robyn," he greeted the little cat-girl.   
  
Robyn smiled, clutching onto Kurti's hand and scuffing her claws. "Hey, Pie-Pie. You feeling better?"   
  
The albino nodded, then cocked his head to one side. "What're you wearing?"   
  
At once, Robyn beamed, twirling as best she could while still holding fast to Kurti. "It's that new dress you brought me. Like it?"   
  
"Love it. Suits you."   
  
Lance crossed the sterile room and made as if to dump the heavy cardboard box on the waiting couch next to Kitty. However, he was halted mid-action by a blur of silver and someone catching his arm.   
  
"Don't do that! They're asleep!"   
  
The elder boy looked at new mother and child dubiously. "How can you tell? She's still holding the baby."   
  
Pietro frowned. "Listen."   
  
Lance did, and presently the sound of dulcet snoring came to his ears, matching the rhythm of Kitty's rising and falling chest. He blushed, conscious of his mistake in front of their new companions, and hiding it by waggling the box and asking; "So what should I do with this, then?"   
  
Kurt deposited Robyn with the long-abandoned children's toys doctors' always have, sitting her down with a quiet puzzle, and padded over to the reception area.   
  
"Here," he said, quickly clearing a space amongst all the cobwebby files and old phones disconnected from their sockets.   
  
Lance grunted with exertion as he dumped the stuff, dragging a filthy hand across his forehead to remove the sweat gathered there. He turned around, and abruptly stifled a cry. "Hey, what's she doing?"   
  
Both Kurt and Pietro looked to where Robyn, disregarding the puzzles, had crawled to the slumbering Kitty's side, and was now sniffing tentatively at baby Hope. Her hands rested on the side of the leather couch, claws retracted, and on her face was an expression of intense concentration as her pink nose worked furiously.   
  
She startled as the three youths came towards her, dropping from her perch and scuttling backwards on all fours.   
  
"Wasn't doin' nuthin'," she mumbled hastily.   
  
Kurt dropped into a crouch beside the five-year-old and reached out to stroke her hair. "We know, poppet. It's all right. That's Kitty, but she's very tired. She's had a very busy day."   
  
Robyn twitched her snout. "Kitty's all pink and wrinkly."   
  
Kurt's fangs showed a little as he smiled. "Nein, liebchen. That's Baby Hope. Kitty is the lady."   
  
"Oh." Robyn sat for a moment, then reached up with one clawed foot to scratch behind her left ear. Lance and Pietro both looked on in amazement that she could even bend that way, but neither girl nor elf paid them any heed. Instead, Robyn turned mournful brown eyes to her 'brother', and asked innocently; "Kurti, what's a baby? Did you find it? Where did it come from?"   
  
Pietro uttered a muffled "snerk!" behind his hand.   
  
Kurt rocked back on his haunches for a moment, face thoughtful. "A baby," he said at last, "Is a tiny, brand new person. You were only a baby when I found you, liebling."   
  
"I thought you said you found me when I was just small?" Robyn said, confusion showing plainly on her furry face.   
  
"Ja, you were small because you were a baby."   
  
"Oh. Was I all pink and wrinkly too, like baby Hope?"   
  
"Nein, you had lovely soft brown fur, the colour of sunlight."   
  
"Oh," Robyn looked at the floor. "Was that because I'm a mutant?"   
  
Kurt drew her close into a warm hug, which she returned rather bemusedly after a moment. The elf's expression was slightly sad, but he was still smiling, which made for an odd facial combination.   
  
"Jawohl, Robyn," he said simply. "Jawohl."   
  
*******************  
  
"Loganloganloganloganloganlogan!"   
  
Logan blanched, and caught the flying bundle as it careered towards him. "Whoa, hold up there, short-stuff. Whassamatter?"   
  
Daisy looked up at him, reptilian eyes as wide as they could go. "I found another one!"   
  
"Another what?"   
  
"Another *sign*!" She dropped from his arms and grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the empty building by the side of the desolate road. "Lookit! Lookit!"   
  
Logan did indeed 'lookit'. And then he looked again, reading the words daubed across the wall in flaking black paint. He said nothing, but Daisy happily sounded them out for him.   
  
"The God-dess will hee-aaal the wer... wer..."   
  
"World," Logan supplied. "The Goddess will heal the world." There was something screwy about this. That made four signs they'd found in this berg alone, all of them referring to some mysterious 'Goddess'.   
  
Daisy turned shining eyes upon him. "Didn't I do good, finding it?" she asked, suddenly wondering by the look on his face whether she should've told him about her discovery.   
  
Logan started, broken from his reverie. "You did plenty good, Daisy," he replied, ruffling her hair. In return, she clung to his leg - the only part of him she could reach - and hugged him tight.   
  
"Good. I only wanna do good for you, Logan, 'cause you're my Fairy Godfather." Despite his negations, it was a refrain she'd picked up on, and refused to let go. Not that he really minded. It was nice to have a nickname that wasn't 'mutie scum'. Reminded him of the old days. Before it all went bad.   
  
"Come on, Daisy. Let's get movin' an' find somewhere to sleep for the night. Or what's left of it, anyway."   
  
"Okie-dokie," she sang, skipping after him and waving her long, thick tail in the air.  
  
*******************  
  
Kätzchen and baby Hope were still asleep. Outside, the world was dark as pitch.   
  
Lance cooked something soup-esque on a portable stove and Pietro zipped between windows, looking out.   
  
"Hunters, Kurti," said Robyn.   
  
"Ja. I can hear them."   
  
Lance began to fret that Hope would fuss or cry, but so far, the infant slept secure in her borrowed crib. Robyn could tell by the way he looked over at the two every handful of seconds.   
  
Light flaring at the window made them all duck. Pietro zipped out of the way of the light so he could look.   
  
"Eh, the fearsome fivesome," he cooed under his breath. "Shemp, Larry, Moe, Curly and Bubba."   
  
"You know them?" Lance hissed.   
  
"Avoided them a coupla dozen times. Maybe a coupla dozen dozen. They have a pig farm to the southeast of the old high school. Feed the pigs on the old cafeteria stuff. And leftover pigs. Amongst other things."   
  
"Oh," said Kurti. "Them. We met raiding the same market, once. I lead them a wild chase and then 'liberated' half their stuff," he grinned at the memory. "They're hardly a threat at all."   
  
"Tenacious, though," said Pietro. "Lord knows what'll happen if they find someone to breed with."   
  
Kurti snorted.   
  
"What's breed mean?" whispered Robyn.   
  
Lance went pink. "That's making babies," he hissed. "You'll get the finer details, later."   
  
"Can't they make babies on their own?" she insisted. "Bubba looks fat enough."   
  
Pietro sniggered.   
  
"It's something men and women do," said Kurti. "You need both, or there's no babies."   
  
Robyn thought about that. It seemed logical. "So I had a Mom and Dad?"   
  
"Ja," said Kurti. "You had to. But... they weren't with you." Kurti had a sad moment, staring at nothing.   
  
Baby Hope whimpered and sniffled. Lance made to get up, but Kurti held him down. "Wait."   
  
Outside, another flash scoured the area. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty," said Bubba. "Here, kitty."   
  
"Yeah, we could use some stew," cackled Shemp.   
  
Kurti held up a hand.   
  
"Dang thing musta run off," said Moe. "Stoopid cats. Aughta skin 'em all."   
  
The flashlights went away.   
  
"Babies sometimes whimper or murmur in their sleep," Kurti explained. "She probably won't wake up for another hour or so."   
  
"Thanks for telling *me*," murmured Lance. "I almost ate my *heart* back there."   
  
"There wasn't time," said Kurti. "The pig brothers are stupid, but their ears make up for their lack of brains."   
  
"They got the biggest ears ever," said Robyn. "They can hear a cat at fifty paces." And, considering how wily the local cat populations were, that was some pretty sharp hearing.   
  
"Lance?" Kätzchen murmured. "Izzat dinner?"   
  
"Yeah. Don't get up," he cautioned. "You need to rest for a while."   
  
"Don't worry," she said. "I don't wanna move." Tentative, she felt around her. "Hope. Where's - "   
  
"She's in a crib nearby," assured Lance. "She's asleep." Now he got up, and guided her hand to the crib, and the pink little human within. "See? She's okay."   
  
Hope murmured a little. One hand had escaped her swaddling.   
  
"Still asleep?" Kätzchen asked.   
  
"Yeah. I'll dish you up some dinner. I remember reading somewhere that you had to let 'em cry a while. But - considering the sitch - they might not be very good."   
  
"Mutie-hunters," said Kurti. "So far, we've seen the pig brothers; but there's still the Vanguard and the Chains."   
  
"They mostly fight each other, though," said Pietro. "They don't often go here. There's nothing they need."   
  
Lance handed Kitty a bowl and a spork. She ate with quick efficiency.   
  
Then the unthinkable happened.   
  
A madman entered the scene. Robyn could tell by the distant singing.   
  
"Loooooooove. Changes all. Love cha-anges all... I never knew it would eeeeever co-o-ome... Love changes all--"   
  
Bubba sprang into action, leaping from the shadows and sending a load of shot over the newcomer's head.   
  
Robyn peeked out the window. There was a lit wagon full of green things. And a man in a dress with a funny hat.   
  
"Gott im Himmel," whispered Kurti.   
  
She felt inclined to agree.   
  
"Sounds like your kinda guy," Lance muttered, nodding at Pietro. The albino whipped around, glaring.   
  
"Hardly," he said. "That guy's not only nuts, he's crazy! Walking into the middle of the street making that much noise?"   
  
"They wouldn't... shoot him, would they?" Kitty asked nervously. "I mean, he could just be a human, like them. Not mutant at all."   
  
"Kätzchen, the pig brothers don't care what they're shooting at, as long as it's edible," Kurt whispered forebodingly, eyes fixed out of the window. "Why do you think there are so few survivors around here?"   
  
Behind her glasses, Kitty's sightless eyes widened in horror, and her grasp tightened on the side of Hope's crib.   
  
"Good God," Lance cursed. "What kind of a place *is* this?!"   
  
Nobody answered his question, but Pietro's voice cut through the gloom like a knife. "What the hell - the guy's going up to them! He's spreading his arms, like he wants to *hug* them, or something."   
  
"Or something," Kurt muttered. "Shhh, I'm trying to hear what they're saying."   
  
Silence settled on the little group for a moment, and both Kurt and Robyn strained their extra-sensitive hearing trying to pick up the words spoken outside. A faint burble filtered through into their makeshift haven, though the six men outside were too quiet for most to hear properly. The assembled mutants looked expectantly at elf and cat-girl alike, watching and waiting.   
  
Finally; "What does 'salvation' mean?"   
  
"It means being saved, or rescued," Lance replied when nobody else did.   
  
"Oh," said Robyn. Then; "So what's a 'Goddess'?"   
  
"Huh?"   
  
"Well, the man in the funny hat said; 'the Goddess will bring salvation to this land', but I dunno what he means. Do you?"   
  
Lance blinked. "Uh... I...."   
  
"Scheisse!" hissed Kurt suddenly, cutting off all further conversation. His curse was closely followed by the sound of gunshot from outside, and a cry.   
  
"What happened? What happened?" Robyn whimpered, trying to get to the window. Kurt pushed her away again, forcing her to crouch low on the floor where she wouldn't see.   
  
"They shot him. In the leg. Guy's gone down like a sack of potatoes!"   
  
Pietro dropped near them, switching to survival mode in an instant. "Dead?"   
  
Kurt shook his head. "No, wounded. Won't last long against those thugs, though. He can't move, and from what I can tell, he carries no weapons, just... *plants*. They're moving in on him right now." The elf turned to his pale companion. "I'm going after him."   
  
"What?" Lance was incredulous, but wily enough to keep his voice low. "But the guy's a nutso!"   
  
"He's harmless. A religious fool, from what I saw. Preacher of some kind. He doesn't deserve their 'tender mercy'."   
  
"What about us?"   
  
"I'll lead the Pig Brothers away, you get the plant guy to safety. He's a human being, Lance Alvers," Kurt's golden eyes flashed in the murk, "And where I come from, *every* life is precious."   
  
He made as if to get up, but Robyn grabbed his wrist. "Kurti, no!" she pleaded. "Please don't go! I'm scared!"   
  
"I have to," Kurt said firmly, prising her grasp away. "Stay here with Pie-Pie, liebchen. Remember the rules. Whatever you do, *don't* go outside!" And with that, he darted away, out the disused back door of the surgery, and skirted around the side of the building so that the Pig Brothers wouldn't be able to tell from which direction he'd come.   
  
Lance opened and shut his mouth like a fish, devoid of anything useful to say. "Shit!"   
  
*******************  
  
The Pig Brothers weren't exactly a clever bunch. But they were savage, and each was a crack-shot - which more than made up for their lack of smarts in this new world they found themselves in.  
  
Anybody even slightly cultured probably would've likened them to the characters in 'Lord of The Flies' at that moment, especially given their porcine orientated background. They crowded in on the robed newcomer, leering madly and preparing for a little sport with him.   
  
For his part, the man only stared blankly, before looking at the hole in his gown and blood seeping slowly through it. He didn't shout out in pain, nor cuss them as a normal person would. Instead, he simply seemed unable to understand their actions, and kept looking between the five brothers and his wound incredulously.   
  
Curly stepped forward. As the eldest sibling, he had invariably become their leader in these dark times, and he pointed the barrel of 'Old Greta' as he called his shotgun, under the man's chin.   
  
Confused blue eyes stared back at him from beneath the hat's wide brim. "Have you no faith in the Goddess?"   
  
"Whut Goddess?" asked Bubba from behind them.   
  
"She who will reign deliverance down upon us all, should we tend the seeds of mercy, as she so decreed."   
  
Curly hucked a gob and spat it onto the ground in contempt. "Whut you be talkin' 'bout, stranger?"   
  
But the stranger said no more.  
  
*******************  
  
_If God protects fools and children,_ Kurt thought, _I must qualify for both. Hey, Boss. I need an extra contingent of Guardian Angels, right here. For him and me, both. Deliver us safely from the Pig Brothers and their ilk._ Then he launched himself off the roof, straight towards Curly, howling like a demon fresh from Hell.   
  
The pig brothers reacted predictably - shooting first and asking questions later - though their aim was off owing to adrenaline. He landed on Curly and made quick use of his sharp nails to tear the Pig Brothers clothes and scratch skin. He *could* have killed the man with a quick poke to the jugular, but Kurt much preferred to give each soul a solid chance for repentance.   
  
That, and he'd seen what the Pig Brothers did when they were upset about something. The gang that had come to Bayville and shot their best sow was still creatively strung up on the side of a building somewhere, as far as he knew.   
  
The Pig Brothers may not have been smart, but they were definitely ingenious when it came to alternate uses for bailing wire.   
  
Kurt launched off of Curly and gave Bubba something to think about, and nicked the other three on general principals before haring off at all possible speed towards the old industrial district. He still bayed madly, though, so that the Pig Brothers would have something to follow.   
  
Which they did.   
  
_I'll give the others a quarter of an hour,_ he thought. _That ought to be plenty of time._   
  
*******************  
  
The madman in the khaftan was trying to move the barrow. In a past life, it had been the sort of thing hotdogs were sold out of. Only now the trays held fruit seedlings and flowers and dirt and other things Pietro had thought were extinct.   
  
"Easy, now, hombre," he soothed. "You don't want to bleed to death, now, do you?"   
  
"If I do, I will nourish the Earth and my soul will fly to the Goddess," muttered the zealot. "But I must protect her bounty. Must save the fruits of her labours..."   
  
Lance finally arrived and held him down. "Nothing's gonna get saved if you don't sit still." He improvised a tourniquet out of the Khaftan's hem and bound the wound. Quick, practised movements, Pietro noticed. But then, he'd evolved the same sorts of skills. Even *buckshot* could hit a quick target at a wide enough scatter pattern.   
  
Pietro inspected the wagon. Nothing seemed to be hurt. "Don't worry, pal," he said. "The fruits of your Goddess are going to a nice safe place. And so are you." He was careful, but he was still fast, and had the cart safely hidden inside the hospital room with Kitty and the kids, then he was out again to assist Lance.   
  
"This place," said Lance, "Is seriously fucked up."   
  
"Yup," Pietro agreed. "That sort of thing happens all the time in Ground Zero. Fucked up fuck-uppishness. *All* over the place."   
  
Lance boggled at him. "This is *Bayville*? Where it all started? Holy *fuck*..."   
  
"...less blasphemy, please?" said the Zealot. "My Goddess won't want to hear foul words when I report to her."   
  
"You aren't going to die," said Lance, hauling him towards the back doors. "You're in luck. There's a doctor's surgery here. If all goes well, we can even get the bullet outta ya."   
  
"Yeah," agreed Pietro. "It's just a flesh wound. Heck, we could probably even make sure you don't get a limp."   
  
"...you don't unnerst'nd..." mumbled the Zealot. And then he passed out.   
  
*******************  
  
Robyn boggled. "*More* people..." she whispered, explaining things to Kätzchen. "It's the man in the dress who came with the cart. He's bleeding from his leg and he's sleeping."   
  
"I boarded up the doors again," said Pietro. "Our man Friday's in shock, I think. It'll be easier for us to patch 'im up while he's out."   
  
"Looks like twenty-two," said Lance. "Only one bullet, and only a hassle if it hit anything major."   
  
"Doesn't look it," said Pietro. They put the man on the floor.   
  
In all the confusion, the fighting and carrying and whatnot, he still had his hat on. It was a conical thing, apparently made of dried reeds. Robyn took it off him, examining his face.   
  
The man was - ordinaryish. He had curly hair and more than a hint of a beard. It was prickly and rough, not soft and smooth like Kurti's face. The curls fascinated her. Robyn had never seen springy hair up close, before. The way it kept moving back into shape was fascinating.   
  
"*Kid*... outta the way, willya?" Lance and Pie-Pie had found a bed on wheels and some lamps and some tools.   
  
Robyn skittered out of the way, still clinging tight to the hat. It had a name inside it.   
  
"Al-vinn... Sk-sk-skeithe... Be-loved of the Goddess," she read.   
  
Had Alvin Skeithe fallen to the Pig Brothers, he wouldn't have even been buried with his name. He'd have been buried in a pig[1].   
  
Pietro aimed lamps while Lance fished out the bullet and washed and sewed. Then they both wrapped the wound.   
  
Pietro handed Robyn a bowl of soup; then gave one to Lance before he took anything for himself.   
  
Robyn took up a post by the window, watching the night outside and waiting for Kurti. "I hope he comes back," she whispered.   
  
Baby Hope woke up at last, protesting against the unfairness of an empty tummy and, judging by the smell, a full diaper.   
  
Robyn let Lance and Pietro fuss over Kätzchen and Baby Hope. She was worried about Kurti. If he didn't come back, then everything she knew would vanish. She'd be in the company of strangers and a time of peril. Kurti *had* to come back. It was the way of the world.   
  
But even Robyn knew that the world was a dangerous place.   
  
Alvin Skeithe had proved it.   
  
*******************  
  
_Scheisse!_   
  
Kurt pattered through the deserted streets, four-footer style. This way, he could at least put some distance between himself and the Pig Brothers without losing them completely.   
  
A shot rang out as he rounded a bend, and he heard the haphazard 'ratatatatatatat' of buckshot striking and bouncing off a brick wall, closely followed by a yell of frustration from Moe at having missed *again*.   
  
Kurt smiled grimly to himself. That was the fourth time they'd tried for him and missed. Each time had been a near thing, but it gave him a sort of sick satisfaction to put another stone in their proverbial shoe. He darted up a wall, running sideways along it above face level.   
  
{THUNDERTHUNDERTHUNDERTHUNDER}   
  
"There 'ee is!" shouted someone who sounded distinctly like Shemp, the youngest pig boy. More shots were fired, but Kurt leapt clear, twirling artistically and calling on his acrobatic history to land at a run and keep on going.   
  
"Y'missed!" shouted Curly, and the sound of a slap echoed along the street. "Lemme get a shot in at 'im! That durn critter's got away frum us too many tahms as 'tis."   
  
_More times than you even know,_ the elf quipped silently, thinking of all those occasions when he'd spotted them and clung high to walls while they passed by, unmindful of his presence.   
  
His breath was coming in short, sharp gasps now, and the telltale signs of stitch began to twinge in his side. _Not now!_ he ordered it, dodging left down a small alleyway that would've been a dead end for anybody else because of the tall wire mesh fence strung across the way.   
  
His impeccable sense of timing told him approximately ten minutes had passed since this merry chase began. Not yet time to go back, but much longer than he was used to exerting himself of late. All those times he'd given up his food to Robyn began to make themselves known as his muscles protested at having no fuel, and his lungs started to burn.   
  
_I *said*, not now! Can't afford to flag. Have to keep going._   
  
He shimmied up the fence as if he were running on flat ground, fingers and toes finding holds expertly in the hooked metal. His tail, too, provided a useful levering tool, and the spaded tip hauled the rest of him up as his limbs grew heavy and began to drag.   
  
Too fast, too fast, a part of his mind whispered. Not enough energy for this much exercise. Too much, too fast.   
  
But if Kurt was anything, he was stubborn, and gamely clambered upwards, squirrel-like.   
  
However, when black spots invaded his vision, things became just that little bit more difficult. For once in his life, Kurt's famous grip failed, and he missed a handhold long enough to lose his balance and tumble backward off the netting. Throwing out his other hand, tridactyl fingers laced through the wire, snagging a hold and securing his place above the ground.   
  
But luck didn't stay with him long, as Kurt found out to his cost.   
  
"Got 'im!" exalted a voice, and a blast rent the air.   
  
Kurt tried to swing himself out of the way, and *did* manage to save himself from any serious injury. Stinging pain erupted from his backside, however, as the buckshot either glanced off or buried itself in his flesh. Thanks to his fur, it didn't go very far past the skin, but hurt like hell. He was wincing visibly as he dived over the top and scurried away down the passage.   
  
Glaring up into the dust-ridden sky, Kurt shouted; "You and I have gotta have a *serious* talk later, Boss!"   
  
Thirteen minutes gone. Just a few more to go. _Better give the others an extra five, just to make sure._   
  
Kurt paused in a doorway, taking advantage of the distance he'd gained to inspect his wounds. His backside was like Swiss Cheese, and thin slivers of red could be seen here and there through the back of his clothes. There was nothing too major, but the aesthetic hurts were bad enough. He had enough trouble sitting down without *this* kind of thing added to the mix as well.   
  
A shout some way off signalled that the more agile of the Pig Brothers had followed his lead and scaled the fence, and Kurt sighed. Bubba would no doubt still be on the other side, jumping up and down like an idiot, like he did every time Kurt led them down those fenced alleys. _You'd think they'd have learned by now,_ he mused wryly, and padded to crouch in the middle of the street where they could see, but not shoot at him - well, at least not hit him, anyway.   
  
He'd gone no more than a few feet when something hard cracked him from behind. Stars exploded inside his skull, and with a muffled "Unk!" Kurt's nose hit concrete.   
  
"Stinkin' mutie!" snarled a voice, and Kurt looked blearily up from the dust to see Moe glaring down at him, gun cocked and at the ready.   
  
The tap-tap-tapping of footsteps heralded the arrival of the other Pig Brothers, and Kurt listened, only half being able to actually see anything, as they encircled his prone form. His tail flopped lazily, like a worm caught in a dry patch and he rubbed at the back of his head where Moe had caught him.   
  
Bubba grinned, jowls wobbling as he brandished the wire cutters previously tucked into his belt. He was the only one of them without a gun in hand, but the rifle was still slung over one shoulder, close to hand should he also decide to take a pot shot.   
  
Curly stepped forward once more. The situation was exactly the same as earlier, save for the change in victim from a bemused zealot with a leg wound, to a dazed elf with a sore bottom. Old Greta snapped to the ready, and the eldest brother squeezed one eye shut as he aimed down the barrel.   
  
For the briefest of moments, Kurt considered teleporting, but almost immediately realised it was impossible. His body felt almost numb, weak and drained by hunger and physical exertion. He could barely move, and his vision was blurry already. If he tried to 'port, no doubt the consequences would be disastrous.   
  
Old Greta poked into his face, dark circles to his fuzzy sight.   
  
_Uh-oh._  
  
*******************  
  
"He's late," Robyn whimpered. "He's never late."   
  
"Hhhsssshhh," Lance soothed. "It's okay. He's probably on his way back right now."   
  
Alvin stirred on his bed. "...ooowwww..."   
  
Pie-pie made to serve another bowl of soup.   
  
"Please?" Robyn begged, stopping him. "Leave some for Kurti?"   
  
"*Ow*!" said the Zealot. "Oh, Goddess... such trials you send the faithful..."   
  
"Don't move," said Pietro. "You've got a hole in your leg. Better not make it angry."   
  
"The plants! My Goddess' plants? Are they--?"   
  
"They're fine," said Robyn. "But Kurti isn't back yet."   
  
"You mean the blessed one who saved me?" said Alvin. "The one sent by the Divine?"   
  
"His name's Kurt," said Pietro. "He lead the Pig Brothers off and he said he'd be fifteen minutes and it's been almost half an hour."   
  
"Kurti's never late," said Robyn.   
  
Alvin appeared to notice her for the first time. He gasped and viewed her in awe. "A child of the blessed ones." He smiled, tears gathering in his eyes. "I never thought I'd see one so close... May I - touch you?"   
  
This guy was *strange*... "I don't wanna leave the window," she said. "Kurti might come back."   
  
"I'll pray for him," said Alvin. "The Goddess will provide." He clutched at a symbol at his neck. An X inside a circle.   
  
Robyn froze. There was a place she and Kurti went, sometimes, when the Pig Brothers and the Vanguards and the Chains were off fighting their turf wars. It was a quiet place in amongst a ruined forest, marked by three crosses, and that symbol.   
  
"Professor Xavier," Robyn whispered. "You're wearing a li'l wheel like the Professor had when he was alive."   
  
If the Zealot's face could have opened any further, it would have burst. "You - you know of the Great Teacher? The one who bought together the Blessed in the Dream of Peace?"   
  
"...um..." said Robyn, inching a little away. "Maybe not like *that*... Kurti told me about him is all."   
  
"This guy's *nu-uts*..." Pietro sang under his breath.   
  
Alvin was struggling to get up. "If your Kurt is a student of the Great Teacher," he panted, stopping to clutch at his wound, "Then it's my holy duty to save him! All the students of the Great Teacher must be found! Found alive! For the Goddess' comfort and peace! She lost her family to the Plague and the wars, but she will not lose the students! We must--ARGH!"   
  
Pietro caught him on the way down. "Easy, there nutso," he soothed. "You aren't going nowhere right now. Goddess or not, you need to rest up a bit."   
  
"But I left a Blessed Student in the hands of the Tainted," Alvin protested. "My beloved Goddess would never forgive me if I allowed him to perish. And after he risked his life for *me*, a mere missionary..."   
  
Lance looked at Pietro. Pietro looked back.   
  
"We are *so* frikkin' screwed," Lance sighed.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] That is, fed to it. In a post-apocalyptic world, one does not waste protein. 


	5. Deliverence

*******************  
  
Fifth Fragment ~ 'Deliverence'  
  
*******************  
  
"All wrapped up warm?" said Logan.   
  
Daisy nodded.   
  
"Awright, sit tight, I'll be back in a moment."   
  
Daisy snuggled into the blanket Logan had wrapped around her. This dark room was full of chairs and one big silverish sheet stretched taut up front. And curtains, too, but they were drawn to the side.   
  
There was a light on the screen, then a purring noise. And numbers counted down on the screen.   
  
"Ten," read Daisy. "Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."   
  
{Bip!}   
  
There were cartoons on the screen. And they were moving. And singing.   
  
"Let's all go to the lobby. Let's all go to the lobby," they sang. "Let's all go to the lo-obby! And buy ourselves a treat."   
  
Then there was a woman running in slow motion down a street and someone was whispering about someone else called Calvin Klein.   
  
And then Logan was there, snuggling against her.   
  
"What *is* this?" she asked.   
  
"When the ads are over?" he said. "Jackie Chan. The man's a genius. Pay attention, you could learn something."   
  
Daisy hugged his arm and paid attention. She'd do anything for her Fairy Godfather.  
  
*******************  
  
Robyn's head jerked up, and she scrambled to her feet suddenly, startling everyone. The expression on her face did little to alleviate the feeling of trepidation pervading the atmosphere. Neither did the abrupt appearance of her claws, which dug nervously into the back of the leather waiting-couch.   
  
"Kurti," she whispered, staring out of the window.   
  
{ZWIP} Pietro was at her side in nanoseconds. "What is it, kid?"   
  
"It's Kurti," the little cat-girl murmured, not taking her eyes from the pane of glass. "Something's happened to him. Something *bad*."   
  
The albino glanced outside, then back at her. Robyn's young face was a mask of certainty and fear, and - though he didn't know how or why - he knew that she was telling the truth.   
  
"Aw, hell!" he muttered, turning and dashing to the door. Sliding it open, he threw back over his shoulder; "Earthquake boy!"   
  
"The name's Lance," Lance replied testily. He was seated next to Kitty, holding her hand against the terrible news of the hellhole they'd somehow managed to end up in, and glowered at the speed-demon as if it was his fault they were stuck here.   
  
"Whatever. Look after these two and the zonked guy. I'll be back in a jiff," and then he was gone, a faint whoosh and splash of silver the only indication he'd been there at all.   
  
Robyn hunched back into the lee of the couch, huddling into the corner and wrapping her tufted tail around her knees. First Kurti, then Pie-Pie. Both her big brothers were gone now, leaving her all alone with these strangers. She was more frightened then she'd ever been in her life, and, unbeknownst to the whispering couple, she buried her face and began to cry silently.   
  
_Please, come back safe. Oh please, *please*, come back safe._   
  
*******************  
  
"Well, m'dears," cooed Alice, matriarch of the Pig Brothers. "We got ourselves a good pelt. An' a halfway decent 'mount of fun in the byways."   
  
"An' pig fodder," said Bubba. He was busy binding Kurt's arms and legs with wire.   
  
Kurt prayed he'd forget the tail. Most forgot the tail.   
  
"This'un's lead us a hell of a chase, Maw," said Shemp. "Why can't we take it *outta* his hide instead o' takin' his hide *offa* him?"   
  
"You idjit! It's gettin' near winter!" Moe slapped his youngest brother on the head. "Maw needs t' keep warm."   
  
"An' mebbe we kin trade it fer a woman inna spring."   
  
Insanity hit Kurt square in the mouth. "You'll want me in my winter coat, then," he said. "I'm really spectacular in the winter. Nothing gets the ladies like a winter coat. They love it." He smiled artistically. "I'm an unearthly pale blue. Like shadows in the snow. And so lovely and thick... and soft, too."   
  
Alice pinched his cheeks, testing his nap. "Mighty short, now," she mused. "Can't say I've never seen 'im any other colour'n'e is..."   
  
"Yah, but - we never seen 'im in winter, Maw."   
  
"We never see nobody in the winter." Alice thought about it. "Yeah. What the hell. Bail him up like a fattening hog an' get 'im nice an' plush afore we tan 'im an' feed 'im t' th' pigs."   
  
Kurt tried not to let his relief show. Any extra time he had was time to escape.   
  
*******************  
  
"fuZZMan!" Pietro's calls dopplered around the empty streets.   
  
Garbage, dead body, evil-looking cat, more garbage... the remains of Bayville blurred past. Pietro's senses, like every other bodily system, ran at many times the speed of an average person. He therefore was not worried about missing his blue friend as he sped past.   
  
By his personal estimates, he could cover every street in the town in three minutes or less. Kurt could be in a building... there was a possibility that if the furry mutant moved in exactly the right direction, they would miss each other.   
  
Pietro never even considered that he might be too late.   
  
*******************  
  
_Nightcrawler?!_   
  
Mystique had, in fact, spent zero time as a cockroach. In her entire life. Of late, she had been spending most of her time as a black cat, lurking around alleys and trashcans.   
  
By chance, she had not run into her son during any of his nightly excursions. She had been completely unaware that he was still living.   
  
In the present moment, Mystique was peering around a corner at five large men and one equally large woman hovering over Kurt's prone form. Between them, they had quite a collection of firearms.   
  
She assessed the situation, made a rapid decision, and assumed Kurt's form.   
  
"Hey! Over here!"  
  
The tallest looked up, a dazed expression etching his features. "Whut the-"   
  
"There's two of 'em!" a second deduced.   
  
"Get 'em!" shouted a third, small and round like something from an old Pilsbury advert.   
  
"What about this 'un?" said Gun Man.   
  
"He's not going anywhere. We can come back later. It's getting away!" The last was in reference to Mystique, who had taken off in the opposite direction.   
  
Curly slung Old Greta back over his shoulder and pursued his cohorts, who were already pursuing the second demon.   
  
"Get back here, freak!" Moe shouted.   
  
Shemp, though youngest, was also the quickest of the gang, and was closing on their quarry.   
  
Something silver shot past all six of them.   
  
"Move it, Fuzzy!" Mystique heard.   
  
A furrow of wind exploded down the narrow street, turned a sharp hook, and streaked back towards the Pig Brothers and their very irate matriarch.   
  
It passed close to Shemp, who suddenly found himself behind Bubba.   
  
The wind circled again, and the new leader was returned to the back of the pack.   
  
This rotation went through several cycles before Alice got the idea and forced the Pig Brothers to run the other direction.   
  
The silver blur zipped past them and disappeared into the dark.   
  
Mystique ducked inside a building that was barely still standing, wondering what had just happened. Her brain was rather fogged up by adrenaline, inhibiting her ability to make several key connections. So she crouched, waiting for her breath to come back, and, possibly, an answer to appear and explain what the hell was going on.  
  
*******************  
  
Pietro had intended to head off the Pig Brothers and harass them some more, but he found something that completely disrupted that train of thought.   
  
"Fuzzy?!"   
  
"...unh..."   
  
"How'd you get back here so fast?" Pietro dropped into a kneel, hands a blur as he untied the elf. "And what happened to you on the way?"   
  
"Huh?" Kurt rubbed his forehead, trying to clear his vision. "Been here...der Schweinbruderen[1]...they just left..."   
  
"You've been hit on the head," Pietro informed his companion. "C'mon, let's get outta here."   
  
"Can't get up," Kurt mumbled.   
  
"Ah jeez." Pietro glanced around. "What did you *do*?"   
  
"Nng..." Kurt opened an eye. "Hear them."   
  
"Aagh," Pietro lifted Kurt by his arms. "Here we go. Run now, live another day."   
  
The Pig Brothers pattered into the alley.   
  
"Whar'd he go?"   
  
Eddies of dust settled as they stared all around.  
  
*******************  
  
Mystique hunkered amongst the trashcans, searching for her answers with a slightly clearer head and the re-acquired body of a feline.   
  
"Goddamn stinkin' muties!"   
  
"That fuckin' blue sonovabitch..."   
  
"He got away, Maw."   
  
"Damnit. Winter coat or not, I'm gonna skin that sum'bitch next time I lay eyes on 'im."   
  
"Sorry, Maw."   
  
"Other one got away, too, Maw."   
  
A slap, and a cry of pain as Alice banged heads together. Mystique crouched away, not daring to move lest the spot the movement. Cat was a delicacy in these dangerous times, after all.   
  
Her son. Her son was alive. In the middle of a turf war between a bunch of hicks that'd love to be inbred the second they got the chance.   
  
  
  
Pig Boys and Vanguards and Chains. Oh my...   
  
She waited until the brothers porcine had wandered off, then followed her son's scent. There was another with him. And blood. Three kinds. And -- a newborn?   
  
What *had* her boy been up to, these four years?   
  
*******************  
  
{VIP}   
  
Pietro was suddenly standing in the waiting room, draping Kurt over a chair.   
  
"What was that?" Kitty asked, feeling the speedster's accompanying breeze.   
  
"Pietro's back," said Lance, "With the other one."   
  
"The idiot musta teleported," Pietro said. "He's way out of it."   
  
"Not," Kurt protested. "Didn't."   
  
"Don't talk." Pietro scrounged up another bowl of soup. "Eat."   
  
The bowl rested in Kurt's palm. He stared, apparently not really registering its presence.   
  
Robyn pattered across the room, took the bowl, and lifted the spoon to his lips. Kurt's mouth flopped open, permitted the food to enter, and shut, detaining the soup as the utensil withdrew.   
  
Lance watched the proceedings. "He disabled or something?"   
  
"Only for the moment." Robyn continued in her task. "He's all out of energy. Happens sometimes. He... gives all his food to me. Makes him all tired n' stuff."   
  
Alvin was watching in great interest. "Love is the food of angels, a demon rises, with five hands he shall hold the world."   
  
"He's starting to really creep me out," Pietro confided to Lance.   
  
"Tell me about it," Lance sighed.  
  
As Robyn spooned food into Kurt's mouth with a practised hand, light gradually began to sparkle back into his eyes. His gaze became focused once more, and it was with a happy sigh that his muscles relaxed and he leaned back in his chair.   
  
"YOW!" he yelled loudly, promptly jumping back up again.   
  
Robyn dropped the bowl and scuttled backwards, connecting with Pietro's legs where he stood behind her, watching.   
  
At the sudden noise, Hope started grizzling, and Lance picked the newborn up and handed her to Kitty.   
  
"What happened?" she asked, hugging the baby possessively to her.   
  
Lance, instead of answering, turned to Pietro and said accusingly; "Yeah, what's up with the fuzz-ball?"   
  
"Dunno," the albino replied, bending down to stroke the top of Robyn's head.   
  
The little girl looked up at him with huge brown eyes and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck in a frightened hug. For a moment, Pietro only goggled, not knowing what to do. Then, tentatively, he returned the gesture. Despite his previous reputation, he was very gentle, and acted as if at any given moment she might snap in two.   
  
Robyn was warm, and her fur was very soft. The individual hairs tickled his hands, and Pietro felt something curl around his back, resisting the urge to leap clear when he realised it was only her tail.   
  
"What's wrong with Kurti?" she asked, looking back at the elf. Kurt was currently wobbling on his feet, and it seemed that he would topple over any second.   
  
Pietro noted it, and ordered; "Siddown, Fuzzy, before you *fall* down. Y'ain't got enough food in you to be jumping around, just yet."   
  
The spaded tip of Kurt's tail found his hands, and he played with it, something akin to embarrassment playing about his face. A muffled; "Can't", greeted Pietro's words, though it could have been mistaken for a meaningless grunt.   
  
"What? Why not?"   
  
"Gurrabubuckshar."   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
Kurt sighed, and said; "Got a butt full of buckshot. Can't sit down properly. Too painful."   
  
Lance's eyes widened. "You got shot in the *butt*!? Some 'Blessed Student'."   
  
At this, Kurt just looked blank. Alvin, however, was much more verbal.   
  
"How *dare* you!" he said, catching Kurt's attention for the first time. "He is one deemed worthy by the Great Teacher *himself*! Taught by the Goddess and her brethren to unite us all in the Dream of Peace with his compeers! Take back your words immediately, young sir!"   
  
Lance wasn't exactly in the mood to take orders - especially from some nutso old coot with dead plants on his head - and rounded on the strange man with tongue sharp as a knife. "Listen, bub, I don't think you got no place to be tellin' me what to do. I've had one *helluva* day, and I'm fast reaching the end of my tether without you on my back as well. As far as I'm concerned, Kurt's a plain old mutant, just like the rest of us. He saved your life, which was brave, but stupid, since all you've done since you got here is spout garbage about Goddesses, plants and the faculty! Now I think you'd better just *shuddup*, before I get *really* ticked off!"   
  
Alvin boggled at him, apparently only having really listened to half the irate teen's words. "Mutants," he breathed reverently, and looked around at the assembled people. "All of you are... are..."   
  
"Mutants, yes." Lance put his hands on his hips. "You wanna make something of it? 'Cause I'm sure those Pig dudes are still around here somewhere."   
  
But instead of being cowed, or even answering back, Alvin did the last thing any of them thought he would.   
  
He began to weep.   
  
Tears rolled down his cheeks, tracking rivers through the grime and filling the creases with salt water. He cried silently, and beamed through it all.   
  
Robyn twitched, unfurling her tail, and Pietro let her go. The little girl dropped to all fours like a true feline and snuck forwards on her belly. Less than a foot away from the robed man she stopped, sitting down and cocking her head to one side.   
  
"Why're you crying? You sad?"   
  
Alvin shook his head, sending droplets shimmering into the air. "No, child. I'm the happiest man in the universe. I have found a treasure trove in the garden of Transgression. The Goddess was right. Faith was the key, and hope the threshold. Now I step through the doorway into the arms of her kindred."   
  
"What are you *on*?" Lance groaned.   
  
"Cloud Nine, apparently," said Pietro. Then; "Whoops!" He caught Kurt just as his inverted knees buckled, looping his arms around the elf's thin chest and hauling him upright again.   
  
Kurt's breathing was harsh, and his movements slow. He needed more food, and quickly.   
  
Pietro looked across the room. Lance seemed about to pop the half-laughing, half-crying zealot one right on the nose, and probably would've done had it not been for Kitty's steadying fingers laced through his own, holding him back. Robyn was watching Alvin with fascination, but kept one eye fixed on her 'big brothers' and what they were up to. Baby Hope grizzled, mouthing for more milk, which Kitty couldn't give her because of her preoccupation with Lance. And as for the elf - his weight dragged down on Pietro's arm, but he wheezed not to be sat down, *please*.   
  
_Aw, Jeez, Maximoff, how'd you get yourself *into* these things?_  
  
"If I may ask," Alvin said through his tears, "Who are you, good sirs and lady?"   
  
"I'm not listening to this anymore." Lance turned his back on the strange man.   
  
"Then go see if there are any clean beds around," Pietro instructed.   
  
Lance disappeared down a dim corridor.   
  
Pietro sighed, shifting Kurt's weight in his arms. "I'm Pietro Maximoff," he said. "My power is super speed."   
  
Alvin cast into his memories of what the Goddess' texts had told him. "Windswift messenger man purifies world," he said after a moment. "I...I forget the rest." He looked ashamed.   
  
Pietro inclined his head towards the doorway. "Er...Lance Alvers. Makes earthquakes."   
  
"Angry man finds centre," Alvin quoted, "Shakes sense from chaos."   
  
"And this is...ugh, forgot again," Pietro sighed.   
  
"Kitty Pryde," the blind girl extended her right hand. "I phase."   
  
Alvin shook with her reverentially. "Ghost woman brings life to world, a new hope is born."   
  
"What?!" Pietro stared, wide-eyed.   
  
"Mygosh!" Kitty retracted her hand and stroked her daughter's head. "It's like, *true*."   
  
"What is?" Lance rejoined them in the waiting area.   
  
Kitty repeated the last prophecy for his benefit.   
  
"Coincidence," he scoffed. "Hope is a perfectly normal name for a girl. Third door on the left," he said to Pietro.   
  
Robyn followed the pale boy as he carry-dragged Kurti to the other room and lay him on his stomach, pausing in the mouth of the corridor as Alvin's fervent mumbling twitched at her sensitive ears.  
  
"...in her hands, I am guided. In her way, I am strong. The Goddess provides. The Goddess loves us all..." Alvin wrestled himself upright, wiping his wet cheeks and mindful of his wounded leg. "A stout staff would be nice, though," he mused. Limping, he made his way to his cart, and almost collapsed when he got there. He reached over, ignoring the pain. A sacrifice for the Blessed was a noble one. A pure one. He was doing the work of the Divine.   
  
He worked a hidden catch, and a compartment opened, revealing his cache of foodstuffs. Tinned things and an array of 'add hot water' comestables.   
  
"Here," he said. "Take all you need."   
  
The catlike girl-child boggled. "That's a lotta food..."   
  
"The Goddess provides," he said. "She would not send her servants out with nothing. She *loves* us."   
  
"I'm starting to think she loves you when you're very far away," muttered the earth-shaker.   
  
"*Lance*..." the ghost-woman warned. "Play nice? He's friendly."   
  
"He's feedin' us," added the girl. In another room, Windswift remarked, "Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow *ow*... This is *not* gonna be pretty..." and she blinked, eyes growing as she hurried off in search of her adoptive siblings.  
  
Alvin reached into another compartment and took out a dried leaf, then he laboured along to the room where the Blessed Student lay.   
  
He was facedown on a gurney, hips supported by a lot of pillows and his pants around his knees.   
  
Legends never came to life like *this* in the scriptures.   
  
Alvin had to spend time wondering if Christ Himself had fallen and, for example, scraped his knee when he was a child. Things like that *happened* to people. But - legends and people didn't get along. It was an epiphany of sorts. _When they get around to writing it down,_ he mused, _I'll probably be The Great Prophet. Oh my..._   
  
"Here, Blessed One," he murmured, "Chew this. Don't swallow."   
  
"Mnh," said the Blessed Student. He did as he was bade. In a moment, he was asleep.   
  
Alvin carefully retrieved the leaf. A holy relic? A spare patch of cloth made it so, carefully inserted into his belt-pouch. "I can stand," he offered. "I can help."   
  
Windswift pointed to the wound. "Then start shaving. Or washing. Or both."  
  
"Watch his tail?" Robyn implored from her position in the corner.   
  
"Why don't you hold it out of the way for us?" Pietro invited.   
  
"Oh, no," Robyn shook her head vigorously. "I don't touch his and he doesn't touch mine. Without permission. It's a rule." Her cheek fur darkened. "But... sometimes I forget..."  
  
"I don't think he'd mind right now," Pietro said. "Somebody has to, and I bet he'd rather you than me."   
  
Robyn considered. "Kay." She padded to Kurti's side, hooked her fingers around the bottom of his tail's spade, and drew the serpentine appendage up towards his elbow.   
  
"Good," Pietro nodded. "Just stay right like that."   
  
Alvin glanced at the side-table. Windswift had managed to procure an electric razor, a washbasin, a trash bin, and a pair of tweezers.   
  
He found a plug for the razor and skimmed the whirring device over the Blessed Student's buttocks. The cat-girl cringed and turned her face away.   
  
"Well whaddya know," Windswift said. "He's blue underneath."   
  
The pale boy dabbled the tweezers in the water, then targeted a single foreign body, loosening it slowly.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] The Pig Brothers. 


	6. Shame

A/N: Anybody else notice the recent odd behaviour of the review function? As in, reviews given get listed, but never actually appear? Does anybody else have problems like this with their accounts, as it seems to be attacking several of my fics.   
  
*******************  
  
Sixth Fragment ~ 'Shame'  
  
*******************  
  
The figure fell through the door with a muffled grunt, knees hitting the stone flags hard. Other than that, there was no sound.   
  
It hung there for several minutes, hands trailing over the overly-large handle and face turned to the floor. There was little perception of time anymore. It could well have been hours, sitting there. But what did it matter? Time was for the living. Not the dead.   
  
Soft footsteps approached, accompanied by the swishing of fabric. A shadow fell across the figure at the door, and it looked up. Standing just inside the porch was an aged man in a tattered green habit. His hair - what little he had - was a stark white, and perfectly clean. His skin, too, was porcelain, and dotted here and there with wrinkles so deep they could grow potatoes. He wrung his hands, peering at the strange visitor.   
  
"Can I help you?"   
  
Sorrowful eyes stared back at him, and a mournful voice intoned; "Gone. All gone."   
  
He blinked, unsure what to make of the cryptic reply. "Are you injured? Would you like to come inside?"   
  
The visitor's head shook slowly from side to side, and the green eyes dropped. "All gone. All gone. All... gone."   
  
_Shell-shocked,_ the man thought, and pursed his lips. "Child, you may come inside if you wish. This House of God is open to any passer-by."   
  
The gaze refocused on him. "All gone?" It seemed to be the only thing the odd creature could say, and made itself clear by intonation alone.   
  
"Yes, anybody. You look like you could use a good meal." He extended a hand to help the figure up, but instead of grasping it as he expected, the individual of interminable gender released the door-handle and backed away on its hands and knees, an expression of abject horror on its dirt-streaked face.   
  
"All gone!" it hissed, tone made up of both fear and warning. "All *gone*!"   
  
The minister retracted his hand, and gazed quizzically at his guest. It had been so long since any soul strayed down the path to his little church. He'd kept everything in order, lest some day other survivors came to seek solace in the Word of God as he'd done, but it had been months since the last visitor left.   
  
The tiny village was deserted for the most part, harbour bereft of persons healthy or sick. A few grassy mounds represented what was left of the original population. Yet the minister had kept his vigil, refusing to abandon the church he'd come to regard as home when what was left decided to move on to pastures new after the virus. He was stubborn that way.   
  
Softly, he spoke to the androgynous figure before him. "Yes, the other villagers *are* all gone. They left a very long time ago, either by road or boat. There's nobody here but myself... and you. Do you have a name?"   
  
At the word 'boat', the visitor had sat up, and the minister finally got a good look at whom he was speaking to.   
  
It was a girl, from what he could tell beneath the layers of dirt and dust. Dark eyes set in abnormally pale skin glinted at him, sparkling with something akin to madness. Her hair was odd; short, as if it had been cropped close to the skull not so long ago, but was now growing out. Most of it was dark, but a single tuft of white spurted above the centre of her forehead. She was painfully emaciated, cheekbones mere husps with skin drawn taut across them.   
  
He watched as she opened and shut her mouth several times, struggling to form new words. Finally, she rasped out; "B-boats? The s-s-seeeea?"   
  
"Why, yes, we are quite close to the sea."   
  
She hacked a little, making gurgling noises deep in her throat. "Bay... ay-ay-ay... Bay-vi...ville?"   
  
"Bayville?" he wrung his hands a little tighter at the mention of that place. Newspaper clippings of the time before the virus were still tacked to the church notice-board. Large, colour photographs of a demon, sighted in the city and laid bare for the world to see. The first mutant, and the spark that set off this whole terrible chain of events. "You mustn't go there, child. It's too dangerous. Bayville is a hovel of sin, now."   
  
"All gone," she took up the old refrain as she hauled herself to her feet. "*All* gone. Bay...ville?" She spread her hands and shrugged, making her meaning more than clear.   
  
The minister chewed his bottom lip, then sighed. "Take the road north," he pointed. "Just follow the stink of decay, for that's all that resides in Bayville anymore."   
  
The girl stared at him, and looked as if she wanted to say more. Then, apparently thinking better of it, she turned and hobbled away. She wore no shoes, and he noted with some alarm that what he'd assumed was a uniform was in fact some sort of pyjamas. Percale, and of the sort favoured in old hospitals and the like.   
  
Soon the strange figure was lost to the dust mist, but the minister stayed a moment longer at the heavy wooden doors of his church. Reaching up, he touched the cross nailed to the wall outside the entrance, and murmured; "God, have mercy upon her soul for what she shall find in that place." Then he drew it shut with a loud clang and returned to the altar to pray and retake his unrelenting vigil.   
  
*******************  
  
Everyone was napping. Well, nearly everyone. Robyn found it hard to sleep for long stretches in this strange place. Lance, too, couldn't rest. He got up every twenty minutes to check on everyone.   
  
Pie-Pie was fast asleep and muttering to his nightmares so quickly that no-one could understand what he said. Kurti was still out, but bandaged and dressed and free, they hoped, from infection.   
  
Alvin was muttering prayers to himself, almost as unintelligible as Pie-Pie.   
  
Dawn made the world a lighter shade of grey.   
  
The occasional cat prowled on the streets. Beyond that, there was no more movement outside. The Pig Brothers had gone home.   
  
"We're safe," Robyn said. "Daytime's for feeding pigs."   
  
"What about the others?" asked Lance. "The Chains and the whatstheirnames?"   
  
"The Vanguard." She shrugged. "I dunno. Kurti said they were far away. In the main part of the city. He doesn't like going there."   
  
Lance screwed up his face, glancing around. Nobody was awake save for the small child, and he sighed, resigning himself to her conversation alone. "So what does this 'Vanguard' do?"   
  
*******************  
  
"Ooooo*OOOOHHHH*hhh..." His head hurt. His butt hurt. His *fur* hurt. "Verdammt... Oh, *Gott*. *OW*!"   
  
"Kurti!" {Whump!} He was leaped upon by a small child.   
  
"*OW*! *Poppet*... Careful, ja? I'm very sore." He was never so glad to hold her, though. There'd been a point where he thought he'd never see her again. Kurt let her scent fill his mind, etching the moment into his memory. "That was close."   
  
"Mm-hmm," said Robyn.   
  
"Is everyone all right?"   
  
"Yup. Alvin and Kitty and Baby Hope and Pie-Pie are resting. You scared Lance a bit when you woke up."   
  
"Urh. Remind me to apologise, later. Ooh. Mein *head*. What did that man *give* me?" He spared one hand to nurse a temple. "Feels like I'm gonna explode..."   
  
"It was just a leaf. It sent you to sleep."   
  
"...and gave me a hangover. Liebe? Please get me some water? A lot of water..." Maybe if he soaked his head long enough, it would go away. _If he comes near me with that verdammt *leaf* again, I'm gonna murder the bastard._   
  
*******************  
  
"Kya! Wah! Ey!"   
  
Logan had to snort. Today, Daisy was Jackie Chan. He let her have her fun. If she was determined to stay Jackie Chan, he'd teach her a few things about martial arts. Hell, he'd teach her anyway. Kid like that needed to know how to fend for herself.   
  
They both had full packs and no real need to go near towns and settlements but the whole "Goddess" thing had got his curiosity piqued. Time was when he'd *known* a Goddess. Or someone who was once claimed to be one, at least. Hell, he used to know a Demi-God[1]. _Wonder what happened to *her*?_ he mused.   
  
No matter. If she was still around, she was far away from *this* mess.   
  
He hoped.   
  
Daisy had grabbed a broom handle and was waving it around.   
  
Time for lesson one. "You're not holding it right," he said. "Yer elbow's too stiff." He quickly sliced himself a staff and demonstrated the correct grip. "Hold it like this, and nobody'll take it from ya."   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt lightly touched the throbbing veins that seemed intent on crushing his skull, and winced. Where was Robyn with that water?   
  
A shadow appeared in the doorway, framed by the sickly light of dawn.   
  
"Liebchen," Kurt said happily, "That was fast - oh, it's you."   
  
"Can I come in?" Lance asked coolly. Kurt narrowed his eyes at the older boy's tone, but nodded.   
  
Lance took up a chair to the side of the bed and swung it around to sit with legs either side of the backing. He rested his chin on his arms and stared oddly at the incapacitated elf.   
  
"You didn't tell me this place was Bayville."   
  
"You didn't ask," Kurt replied, though a cold wave washed through him at the accusing edge to Lance's voice.   
  
"Don't you think it was something I aughta have known?" Lance stayed deceptively quiet and calm, though Kurt noted the spark of anger burning in his eyes. "This place is Ground Zero, where it all started!"   
  
"Don't you think I know that?" Kurt snapped, all traces of conviviality gone. "I've lived here for four whole years with the knowledge that this is where everything went wrong! Why do you think I've never left?"   
  
Lance's eyes became mere slits. "What do you mean? Robyn said you didn't leave because of the hunters. Pietro," here he waved a careless hand at the insane teen, "Stuck around because he's... well, because he's nuts."   
  
Kurt sighed. "Pietro, I can't really speak for, but Robyn... Robyn doesn't know the real reason we stayed. I told her it was because of the hunters because it was easier to explain. That... and I guess I couldn't face the truth."   
  
"What're you talking about? What - " Suddenly, his eyes widened. He emitted a small gasp, and with a moment of sickening clarity, Kurt knew that he'd finally worked it out. "It was you, wasn't it? I knew I recognised you from somewhere. You were the mutant whose picture was in the papers. The one who let the world know that mutants *existed*." Again, the anger returned, but Kurt kept his eyes down.   
  
"Ja, that was me. I used to wear an image inducer, because..." well, look at me," he gestured at his person, flipping his tail up into view to emphasise, "I couldn't go out in public without it. When I first came to America, I lived in a place called the Xavier Institute."   
  
Lance nodded. "Yeah, I remember reading about that place. Haven for mutants, wasn't it?"   
  
"Jawohl, Herr Xavier and the teachers there were helping us learn to control our powers. He gave me the technology to go out into the world looking like a normal person. For the first time in my life, I was normal. Well, ish, at any rate. People didn't stare at me and scream 'demon', anymore."   
  
"So how the hell did a photographer snap you looking like *that*?" Lance asked pointedly, forgoing tact in the need for information.   
  
A wry smile twitched the corners of Kurt's lips. "A fritz. A stupid, insignificant fritz that happened at the wrong time in the wrong place. I was in the mall, shopping with my friends from the Institute. There were only three of us there at the time, but Xavier hoped to recruit more someday. Some hope, huh? I was at the Taco-Bell, minding my own business and then suddenly 'poof', there was a demon on the loose. I couldn't 'port out - no energy, you see - and a good few hundred people feasted their eyes on yours truly. One of them was a photographer. It didn't take long from there for things to spiral."   
  
"I remember," said Lance. "So what happened then? I read about you Institute being closed down. So why didn't you get outta this dump while you still could?"   
  
"Well, for one, it wasn't quite so... dump-like back then," Kurt answered, flicking an invisible speck of dirt from the palm of one hand. "What you see now came after the virus and all that went with it. The Institute tried to stay together. Ororo, one of the teachers, brought her mutant nephew here so that his parents wouldn't be caught up in the anti-mutant hatred that was fast emerging everywhere. It didn't do either him or them much good, though." He paused, and Lance retained enough sense to leave him to his silence for a moment. "Pietro followed them. He and her nephew had a sort of rivalry going on. Probably would have been better staying in New York, both of them."   
  
"You still haven't answered my question."   
  
"What? Oh, ja. You really wanna know why I didn't just leave back then, when it all started? I'll tell you why. I killed them."   
  
Lance blinked. "Huh?"   
  
"My new family. Others at the Institute. I killed them." He sniffed, staring solidly at his tridactyl hands. "We were holed up after they closed us down. Went into hiding, effectively. But mutant hunters came. They snuck into our house. Shot Herr Xavier. Killed him. I walked in as he lay dying, and they chased me. And I ran away as fast as I could. Didn't even look back. I left my teammates alone. I could've warned them, but I panicked and just looked after my own skin. I came back later, ja, but by then it was too late. The hunters had done their work. They were all gone, either dead, or just... gone. I buried whom I could find, but it wasn't enough. It'll never be enough. If I'd stayed, warned them, they might still be alive today. But I didn't..." he tailed off, wiping his eyes. _Verdammt tears!_   
  
Lance gaped openly at the other mutant. "That's why you stayed?" he breathed. "You felt... guilty about those you'd failed?"   
  
"I wanted to find those who weren't dead. So I waited, and I tended the graves. Then I found Robyn. So now you know," he looked up, eyes wet. "That's why I never left Ground Zero, Herr Alvers. I was the cause for all this grief and pain. What right have I to leave here? I'm scum. This place is all I deserve."   
  
Slowly, deliberately, Lance shook his head, his anger dissipating. "No... you're not. You're a nice guy. You helped me and Kitty, *and* that weirdo Alvin fellah, even though it meant risking yourself."   
  
"Oh, shove it," Kurt replied harshly. He turned over, and faced away from the other teen. "You have your answers, now. This is Bayville. I'm the Bayville Demon. Now go away." The reopening of old wounds made his tongue sharp, and he squeezed his eyes shut again, feigning sleep.   
  
Lance stayed for a moment longer, then rose and left. Outside he came across Robyn, tottering along the corridor with a Styrofoam cup of water in her hands. She looked up, then past him into the room.   
  
"Don't think you should go in, just yet, kid," Lance advised, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the mound that was Kurt.   
  
Robyn said nothing, but entered anyway. She knew Kurti better than these strangers. If he was hurting - and it was obvious from the way he lay that he was - then she knew how to make him feel better.   
  
Lance watched her go and shook his head. Going back to the waiting room, he took a moment to bend over Hope's crib and gently stroke her single tuft of dark hair.   
  
"Kids," he murmured to himself. "Don't ever grow into one, Hope. Stay just the way you are."   
  
*******************  
  
Kurti was having a Sad Time. Robyn could tell by the way he was huddled up on the bed.   
  
"I brought some water?"   
  
Kurti relaxed a little. "Ah. Danke." He turned so he could take it, and swallowed it all in one go. "Ooooohhhh... I needed that..."   
  
Robyn smiled. "Is it bad?"   
  
"I'm getting better, liebe," he smiled. "I heal fast. I just won't be able to sit for a while."   
  
"I meant the Sad Time."   
  
Kurti appeared shocked. "You have a name for it?"   
  
Robyn shrugged. "You *do* have a lot of them."   
  
Kurti pulled her in for a hug. "I'm sorry, liebe. I'm so sorry."   
  
Robyn felt like she wanted to cry. She couldn't do anything for him when he got like this. Nothing more than hold him and love him. "It's gonna be okay, Kurti," she said. "The people are coming back. Maybe? Maybe we can fix things?"   
  
Kurti gasped, then started to cry into her shoulder, clinging to her with all his strength.   
  
_Uh oh... this is *bad*..._ She hadn't seen him like this since two winters ago. He'd found someone he knew - dead, of course - but didn't say anything else about the whole thing. He'd just cried. All night.   
  
Robyn petted his hair and back and hummed the lullaby he'd taught her. It was all she could think to do.  
  
*******************  
  
Pietro snorted as he jolted awake, blinking blearily across the waiting room. His brow was slicked with sweat, and he ran a hand through his hair that came back soaking.   
  
He'd been dreaming, and in his dreams faces from the past had come back to haunt him. Familiar people, as well as those he'd only seen in passing some days at school before things went rotten. They'd called to him, as they used to do when he buried them, wondering why he'd survived the X-Virus whilst they had not. He was a mutant, wasn't he? The virus was meant for his kind, not normal folk. How was it they were dead, and he still walked the earth?   
  
Swinging his legs around, he sat with his head in his hands. It was a good question. How the heck *had* he and other mutants like fuzz-boy and Robyn escaped the disease? He didn't believe in God, as a rule; but before, when he'd been all alone he'd thought he'd been left alive just to take care of the dead. Give them proper ceremonies and stuff. Then he found those two, and things changed.   
  
_Why us?_ he cogitated, _Why, out of everybody, did *we* survive?_   
  
"You OK?"   
  
The question startled him, and he nearly fell off the leather seat. Raising his head, he saw the blind girl - Kitty - sitting on the other couch. Because of her glasses he'd assumed she was still asleep, she sat so motionless. Baby Hope was quiet in her crib, and Alvin too was snoring softly. There was no sign of either Lance or Robyn.   
  
"Lance went to check around the place," Kitty explained, pre-empting his question, "He was real fidgety after he came back from talking to Kurt. Robyn's in with the poor guy now." She jerked a thumb down the corridor that led to the elf's room. "I think he woke up about a half-hour ago. Started moaning about a headache. I have real good hearing."   
  
Pietro nodded, then realised what a futile action it was. "Uh... Yeah."   
  
"You're upset about something," she said matter-of-factly, in a tone that brooked no argument. "I can tell. Like I said, *really* good hearing." She paused for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. Finally, she asked, "Do you... wanna, like, talk about it?"   
  
"Not really." He didn't mean to be blunt, but he wasn't used to dealing with people after nightmares. Usually he'd have time alone to sort himself out, push the images to back of his mind where they'd be fuel his insanity, but not bother him too much.   
  
"Oh."   
  
Silence stretched between the two of them for several minutes. Hope rubbed her nose and sighed, twisting her head. Someone had found an oversized romper suit in a cupboard, and it swamped her totally as she moved. The sound was small, but it caught both their attentions, making them look - or at least *appear* to look - at her.   
  
"I have nightmares too," Kitty said suddenly.   
  
Pietro jumped. "How did you - wait, really good hearing, right?"   
  
She bobbed her head. "Although, the way you talk makes it kinda hard to figure out what you were dreaming, exactly."   
  
"Just be glad you couldn't. I wouldn't want anybody else seeing what I see. Knowing what I know."   
  
"I always find it helps to talk about them. Lance isn't interested most of the time, but it feels good to get things out into the open. Get them off my chest."   
  
"Psycho-analysing me?" A small smile twitched his lips, and he tapped the side of his skull. "Believe me, girl, you really *don't* want to know what goes on inside the head of a madman. Especially not in his subconscious."   
  
"So let's talk about something else," she said. "Where do you come from? Did you live in this place before the virus?"   
  
"Nu-uh. My stomping ground is good old New York City," he answered, patting his chest. "I only moved here because someone I used to know did too."   
  
"A friend?"   
  
"Um... kinda. More of a rival, really."   
  
"Oh. Is he still - "   
  
"No," Pietro said sharply, then immediately softened his voice at her startled expression. "No, he... he died. Quite recently. Hunters got him, the poor schmuck."   
  
"I'm sorry," Kitty said, and meant it.   
  
Pietro waved a careless hand at hand at her. "Meh. It happens. When you come across death every day the way I do, you learn to deal." He tried to sound nonchalant, but there was a catch to his voice. "It was no biggie. Dig a grave, put him in, cover him up, and it's over. Time to get on with life again. Busy, busy, busy. Work, work, work. No rest for the wicked, y'know?"   
  
"That kind of life must be very lonely," she said sadly.   
  
There was a beat before he answered. "Yeah. It was. Used to be times when I wondered if I was the only person left on the planet."   
  
At this, Kitty smiled, understanding. "I know what you mean. It used to get like that on the road. After we left Connecticut it was just Lance and I against everything. We could go for weeks at a time without seeing anybody else, and sometimes I thought we were the only ones left. I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't had him with me."   
  
"Probably gone nutso, like yours truly," Pietro quipped, then laughed at his own joke. "Things aren't so bad now. Not since I found Nightcrawler, at least."   
  
"Nightcrawler? Oh, you mean Kurt? Strange nickname, but each to their own, I suppose."   
  
Pietro chose not to comment on that, instead only grunting; "Uh-huh."   
  
Kitty folded her hands in her lap, playing with the fabric of her newly loosened maternity clothes. "I think it's nice, what you two have. Lance cares about me, I know, but sometimes I wonder if things would've been different if we hadn't been the only two mutants in, like, the whole of our old school. Perhaps I wouldn't have hooked up with him at all, let alone had his child. I guess circumstance kinda dictated our situation, though."   
  
Pietro looked up sharply. "Hang on a second - what're you insinuating? You think Kurt and I are a couple?"   
  
Kitty looked confused, and maybe a little embarrassed. "Aren't you? I thought... well, y'know, the way you were so worried about him with the Pig Brothers last night, running outside and risking your life for him - and the rapport you two have. It sounded like you really cared about each other. I guess I just assumed..." she trailed off.   
  
Pietro laughed again - quietly, so as not to wake Hope. "What, me and Fuzzy? Nu-uh! No way!" he said flippantly. "No offence to the dude, but he's just not my type."   
  
"Oh?" Kitty shuffled - more than a little abashed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to... I mean... that is to say... aw, jeez," she babbled. Then, for want of something better to say, asked; "So what *is* your type?"   
  
"At one time, any girl who said 'yes'," he muttered inaudibly. Then, a little louder; "I dunno. Don't think I even have one, anymore. Years on your lonesome don't exactly make for good social skills. Howza 'bout you? Or shouldn't I ask that?"   
  
"No, you can ask. I just don't have to answer," Kitty shot back, not unkindly.   
  
Pietro smiled. For someone not that used to a two-way conversation, he wasn't doing so badly.   
  
However, their small-talk was interrupted by heavy footsteps coming back down the corridor. Lance hove into view, and stopped at the mouth of the waiting room. He eyed the younger boy suspiciously, then moved to sit down next to Kitty and slid an arm around her shoulder.   
  
Pietro fought the urge to laugh again. What, was it suddenly the 'in' thing to pair him up with people? "No need to worry about me, man. We were just talking. Perfectly innocent." To emphasise, he held up his hands, palms outwards in the universal gesture of surrender.   
  
Lance only grunted, but his expression switched to one of acceptance. Kitty leaned her head onto his shoulder and sighed.   
  
"Find anything?"   
  
"Nah," he replied. "Just some old equipment and papers in the offices. Spotted a mean-looking cat outside, though. Have to make sure it doesn't get in. They can suffocate babies by sitting on their faces, y'know."   
  
"Lance, *I* was the one who told you that."   
  
"Surprised the hunters haven't got it yet," Pietro said idly, scratching the back of his neck and yawning. His eye fell on Alvin, sleeping as blissfully as the baby. "How does that guy do it? Musta had a pretty cushy life not to have any nightmares like the rest of us."   
  
"I think it's nice," said Kitty. "Not everyone should have to suffer."   
  
"I'm not begrudging the guy his rest," the white-haired boy defended himself. "I just wonder where he's from that he could be so... well, innocent. You saw him with those Pig Brothers last night. Talk about trusting." He shook his head.   
  
"What *I* wanna know," Lance put in, "Is how come he keeps spouting all that crap about prophecies and Goddesses? I mean, what *is* that? Some kind of cult?"   
  
"It might be his religion," Kitty said, shrugging her thin shoulders. "Although, I have to admit, he creeps me out more than a little.   
  
"Well, all I'm saying," Lance stroked his stubbly chin, trying to remember if he'd packed a razor in their emergency box, "Is that, when he wakes up, I got a few questions to ask him about where he comes from."  
  
*******************  
  
"My son." The words, barely a whisper, nonetheless echoed throughout the wastelands, brushing at Raven until she shivered. She had found him. And he was alive and he was going to continue to live.   
  
She shivered again. How long had she mourned? How many times had she passed him, only to once again seek solitude in this... this... did it even qualify as an existence?   
  
"Oh, my son," she whispered again, this time in mourning for times past, opportunities lost. Company. Love. If such things could exist again...   
  
She reached out a blue hand into the dark and ran the lightest touch over his velvet cheek, tracing pointed ears. He stirred painfully, and she backed a step, watching silently as he curled closer to the small form beside him. A child--his child?--wrapped her tail around Kurt's wrist as if she would never, not even in sleep, let go. Kurt clung to her. A lifeline.   
  
It was obvious he had cried himself to sleep.   
  
She had told him once, who she was to him. The Institute had only just closed down, and it had seemed like the perfect opportunity to enfold him in her own team, make him part of the Brotherhood. She had thought that by telling him she was his mother, he would run into her arms and she would never have to be partedfrom him again.  
  
But life is rarely so simple. Nor so gracious. He'd chosen to remain with what was left of Xavier's dream, until that flight of fancy died. She'd thought her child dead also, and mourned him.  
  
But here he was. Alive. How was it possible she'd not seen him before?  
  
She hadn't been there for him. But now...  
  
_For now... for now there is one thing I can do. Later..._ Raven paused. Later would come. Despite everything, later would come, as it always did.   
  
Shifting, she settled in. Another warm body; a slightly more peaceful sleep.   
  
*******************   
  
Robyn woke slowly. She could tell Kurti was asleep by his breathing - hitched but even - and she didn't want to wake him. He had been crying and if he woke, the Sad Times might start again... and she couldn't do that to him.   
  
She sat up stiffly and, with a little yawn, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Her tail was curled around his wrist, his tail around her waist. The third tail...   
  
Third tail?   
  
Robyn squealed in delight and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Kurti stirred and the third fuzzy creature stared with luminous eyes.   
  
"Was?" Kurti asked, grimacing with every slight movement.   
  
Robyn ran a hand over the small creature, carefully going with the grain and not touching the tail. The creature purred happily, rubbing against her hand, and Robyn laughed. "I'm sorry I woke you, Kurti...but look!"   
  
Kurti twisted slightly, trying to look. He blinked a few times, trying in vain to wake up. "Where'd the Kätzchen come from?" he asked stupidly.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Alpha Flight used to have one in their roll-call. I think her name was 'Snowbird' or something. 


	7. Choices

*******************  
  
Seventh Fragment ~ 'Choices'   
  
*******************  
  
In the beginning, there was life, and then the people killed it. The Goddess mourned for the lost, and the skies turned dry so She could shed tears. And the madness still reigned, and death stalked the land. The Goddess fled the madness, joining with the skies for as long as She could.   
  
When She came to Earth again, the people had left very little. The plants were dying, because the Great Plague had made the skies dirty. Yet the Goddess felt mercy, and nourished the soil where She fell with rain, and opened the clouds so the sun could warm the Earth.   
  
She was weak in her sorrow for the world, and could only do so much. And the people saw Her and they knew Her. So when She succumbed to the frailties of Her human body, they gave Her shelter and food.   
  
And the Goddess was grateful, and She cared for the people and the land. And She taught them of the Great Teacher, and of the Blessed Students, and the lost and the found and the hope of the future.   
  
And the people bought Her offerings of green things, and they tended them in Her name.   
  
And through the grace of the Goddess, the land turned green, and the people had plants to nourish them, and to feed their cattle. And the people were prosperous, and loved the Goddess. And the Goddess loved them back.   
  
And She said unto the people, 'Go forth and seek out the survivors, and give unto them the plants, and tell them of My love.' And the people went out, for so great was the Goddess' love that she would save what little was left, and heal the world of the scars that the people had wrought.   
  
Sing Her praises, and bless her name, the mighty Goddess of the weather, Ororo.  
  
*******************  
  
All those assembled gaped openly as Alvin finished his reverent litany. His words echoed around Kurt's small room long after he'd finished, and silence reigned in their wake.   
  
The zealot wiped a tear from his ear and sniffed, nose red and eyes puffy. Fumbling in the pocket of his robe, he drew out a small handkerchief. It was bright yellow, and dotted with tiny cartoon kitten faces. The fact that he owned such a thing would've seemed laughable a few minutes ago, when they'd deemed him screwy, but now....   
  
Now, hardly anybody noticed the odd scrap of fabric. They were too busy closing their jaws and slotting eyeballs back into sockets.   
  
Robyn was the first to speak. "Green things?" she whispered. " Where you come from there are green things? Like... like *grass*?"   
  
Alvin paused in the handkerchief's ascent and nodded. "The Goddess is powerful. She brought back all She could from before the Plague. Our land is lush and fertile now, and we live in peace."   
  
"It sounds wonderful," said Kitty, cradling Hope in her arms. "I almost don't remember what proper green things look like."   
  
"I've *never* seen grass," Robyn whispered in delight, "Only heard about them in the Story About Before."   
  
The baby grizzled a little, and the blind girl dutifully lifted her to her breast. Nobody batted an eyelid at the sudden showing of flesh. Considering it had been such a short amount of time since they'd all met, they'd already become used to each other's habits and necessities.   
  
The group of assorted mutants had all gone through to Kurt's room when Alvin awoke and Lance demanded he finally explain himself. The zealot had been more than happy to tell of his beloved Goddess and his mission, but insisted that the 'Blessed Student' hear too. Since the elf couldn't be moved very easily, they'd traipsed through to listen with him to the answers everyone had wondered about since first spotting Alvin out in the street with the Pig Brothers.   
  
Pietro and Kurt, however, weren't only concerned with the idea that someone had brought nature back into this dark world once more. Both of them gawked, faces open at Alvin at the name he'd spoken. The name neither of them had heard outside their own thoughts in four long years.   
  
"Daniels' aunt..." Pietro breathed, as if not believing what he was hearing. "*She's* the Goddess? Oh Jesus H... Oh crap... She - she doesn't know... Oh no..." He trailed off into incoherent babbling, muttering words so fast they were a mere hum and rubbing his temples with tapering fingertips.   
  
Kurt, however, was silent. He stared at Alvin like he was a mere apparition. One of Pietro's ghosts, perhaps, or some shade from his own nightmares come to taunt him.   
  
Ororo was dead. She *had* to be. After Scott and Jean were killed... she was gone. Just like Logan. He'd never found her body, but there had been blood. He'd *smelled* her blood in the aftermath of that terrible ambush, just as clearly as he'd seen his friends' bodies.   
  
Yet Alvin knew her, and he knew her powers too. He knew of her love of plants and all things green. He knew of her aversion to fighting. Little things, things nobody should know unless they'd spent time with her. That must mean... perhaps... Was it even possible?   
  
"She's alive?" he murmured at last.   
  
Robyn looked up where she sat next to him on the bed, brown eyes worried. The strange cat - forgotten in the telling of the story - had taken up residence in her lap, and watched the elf through slits in green pools, as if understanding his thoughts and reaction where the little girl could not.   
  
"Kurti?" Robyn reached up to stroke his cheek. He didn't even acknowledge her touch. "Kurti, what's wrong? Didn't you like the story?"   
  
"All this time I thought she was dead, like the others," Kurt went on, "And she was alive." Tears made the fur beneath his eyes wet, but he didn't brush them away.   
  
Kitty and Lance were confused. "You know this Goddess lady?"   
  
"I knew her," Kurt replied, shaking his head sadly, "Once. We were on the same team. Lived together. She was... she was part of my family."   
  
More tears splashed down, and Robyn dislodged the cat to hug him as tight as wasn't painful. The feline mewled a bit, and clambered onto the child's shoulder instead. Batting out a paw, it caught a lock of indigo hair, as if patting Kurt to make him feel better too.   
  
"Kurti?" The Sad Times were starting again. Robyn felt her own tears start to fall. Tears of helplessness that she couldn't do anything to alleviate her brother's pain; that she couldn't just cuddle him and make all the bad things go away like he did for her.   
  
Lance winced, remembering the conversation of earlier. _Ouch._ "But isn't that good news? That she's alive and well?"   
  
"She is alive," Alvin cut in, snagging all their attentions back again. "But she is not well."   
  
"What?" Pietro broke from his mutterings to stare hotly at the zealot, and demanded, "Whaddyameansheain'twell?"   
  
Alvin took a moment to offer Robyn his handkerchief for her to wipe her eyes before answering. Then, he sighed. "The Goddess is wise and great, but she is not eternal. The light of our order dims day by day as she exerts her will to make our land a haven once more. That is why she sent us out, to retrieve those who would come and live in our utopia of green and receive her blessing before it extinguishes. To retrieve the Blessed Students she promised she would not lose, before it is too late."   
  
{VIP}   
  
Pietro had him by the lapels before he could say another word. "Stop talking in circles," the albino growled dangerously, madness enhancing his savage edge. "What do you mean, 'dims day by day'? You saying she's sick?"   
  
Alvin gurgled a little, and Pietro eased his hold enough for him to breathe. The man rubbed at his neck, and said, "No."   
  
Sighing with relief, Pietro let go of the robe completely, but stiffened under the wanderer's next words.   
  
"She's dying."   
  
"Nein!" came a soft voice from the bed.   
  
Pietro was fury incarnate, he turned on Alvin, eyes blazing, and exploded, "*Dying*? You come all this way to give us hope that there's something left in the world apart from this... this fucking *wasteland*, only to tell us that your 'Goddess'," here, there was a sneer the likes of which only sceptics and madmen can achieve, "Is *dying*?!"   
  
Alvin looked profoundly distressed, and gazed around at all of them bleakly. "We tried everything we could," he explained hastily, shielding himself from another attack, "But her sickness doesn't come from any disease or illness. She is simply... tired. She withers a little more each morning, as the green abounds."   
  
"She must have pushed herself too far healing the land," Kurt's voice cracked. He bowed his head. "That sounds just like something Ororo would do. She never... never spared herself for us. Why would it be any different now? Ach, Tapferes[1]."   
  
Robyn reached up with the handkerchief and brushed it against his fur, mopping up his renewed grief. "Kurti, don't be sad. Please?" He didn't answer her, and she gazed impotently around the room, not knowing what to do.   
  
Robyn hated it when Kurti was sad. When he felt pain, so did she. Many were the nights she'd cried to herself when he was gone because he hurt so much of the time. Nothing seemed to help him. She used to think it was because he was lonely, because his friends were all gone. But then they found Pie-Pie, and Miss Kitty and Mr. Lance, and he was *still* so sad. She understood only a little of his melancholy, but knew that somehow it was attributed to what he'd lost. The people he'd known before the Bad Times came.   
  
_The people he used to know..._   
  
All at once, a thought struck the little cat-girl. An idea that made the spark of hope Pie-Pie had created when they found him flare inside her chest once more.   
  
"Kurti," she said breathlessly, and caught his chin in her hands. She pulled him to face her, gently but firmly, and met his gaze with her own. "Kurti, we could go to the green place. We could go and see the Goddess. Alvin could take us there, couldn't he? It... it sounds a lot nicer than Bayville. There aren't any hunters, are there?" This last question was directed at Alvin, who nodded, still keeping one eye on the seething Pietro.   
  
But the albino was listening intently to Robyn, a different, hopeful, almost pleading light replacing the insanity in his eyes. The same expression was mirrored in the faces of both Lance and Kitty, and they all of them watched the tête-à-tête between elf and child with bated breath, like it was the most important summit of leaders in the history of the world.   
  
Robyn continued, childish excitement etching her furry face. "Kurti, we *could*. We could go to the green place, and you could see her... the Goddess lady, we could go live with her. It'd be just like it was before the Bad Times. Like you told me. No more hunters, no more going hungry. We could be free. Kurti, please say yes. *Please*, say we can leave here and go with Mr. Alvin to his home."   
  
"The Goddess would welcome you," the zealot put in, nodding emphatically. "I could take you to her. The journey is long and arduous, but what waits at the end is pure paradise. I would gladly lead you hence."   
  
"Liebling, I - "   
  
"Please?" Robyn cut Kurt off, tone switching slightly to include a note of desperation. "You hate it here, I know you do. And... and I worry about you all the time when you go out. Last night... I-I-I thought you weren't going to come back at all. I thought you'd left me for good. Please, Kurti. I don't want to risk losing you again. I want you to be happy. This... this Ororo lady sounds nice. She has all the things you talk about in the Story About Before. She has grass, Kurti, *grass*. Just like you told me about. Wouldn't it be nice to stand on proper grass again?" A stray tear tracked a path through her cheek fur. "Please," she finished simply "Please, Kurti.".   
  
Kurt looked at her, looked into her eyes. How could he leave Bayville when he hadn't yet repented for what he'd done? All the pain he'd caused?   
  
Over the top of her head he caught Lance's eye, and the older boy turned away, knowing what was probably going through Kurt's mind at that precise second.   
  
Pietro stood in the centre of the room, something akin to desperation tincturing his ice-chip eyes. All his choler had evaporated, and now he gazed at Kurt like a lost and frightened child - quite unlike any of his other incarnations. Egotistical Quicksilver, 'janitor' of a destroyed Bayville, madman, big brother to Robyn - he was none of those anymore. He was just... Pietro. Everything had been stripped away until only this raw emotion stared out at the world, watching and waiting for Kurt's decision.   
  
The elf jolted suddenly as he realised that whatever he said now would affect all of them. He didn't understand how or why, but somehow, this assortment of motley mutants had come to look upon him as their leader. Kitty, Hope and Lance, Pietro... Robyn. Whatever he decided to do, they'd follow him, because they had no place else to go anymore. No place left to run. What did the world have to offer them, mutant survivors? Kurt had helped them so far; brought Hope into the world, given them advice and a place to stay, risking his life to keep them safe. He was as much a leader now as Cyclops had been before.   
  
Robyn gazed soulfully at him, and the black cat on her shoulder fixed him with a blank stare. Kurt found himself returning it, unable to meet the eyes of anybody else in the room. The cat didn't blink, and neither did Kurt. Gold and green. Green and gold.   
  
_Green..._   
  
Robyn started as Kurt cleared his throat. "Ja, liebchen," he rasped, smiling wanly. "Let's go. Let's leave. There's no place for us here anymore. Perhaps there we can make a new life for ourselves."   
  
Robyn smiled through her tears, and hugged her brother again. The cat meowed but hung on as Kurt returned the embrace, stroking the little girl's hair, and a collective sigh went up from around the boxy room.   
  
"You'll like Ororo, Kleines. She's nice, and kind and wise. And when we get there, I'll show you grass, and we'll stand on it together when its wet with morning dew, just like I told you."   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Brave one 


	8. Ebb and Flow

*******************  
  
Eighth Fragment ~ 'Ebb and Flow'  
  
*******************  
  
The engine made a lot of noise in the silence of Bayville's shattered streets, making everyone freeze. Then the source lumbered into view.   
  
It was a double-decker bus. All four tyres had gone - probably for fuel, somewhere - but it was a bus, and it worked.   
  
Lance brought the thing to a halt. "Like it? Pie-Pie found it. He says he knows where he can get some armoured trucks in case someone decides to shoot at us. All we need is wheels and all the gas we can carry, and we're set! We can even tow the jeep and use it for carrying gas."   
  
Pie-Pie was continually re-appearing with armloads of stuff. Where it came from, nobody knew, but he was gone for a minute at a time.   
  
It was amazing. Blankets. Mattresses. Tins of food. Canisters of cooking gas. A Porta-Potty. Containers of every size and shape.   
  
"Pie-Pie!" Kurt yelled, exasperated.   
  
{Zwip!} "What?"   
  
"We're getting *out* of Bayville, not taking it *with* us..."   
  
"Right. Focusonfood. Gotcha." {Zwip!}   
  
Kurt sighed. He'd found a couple of callipers and was using them to help him stagger around their current camp, trying to organise things. Alas, with two madmen, a woman with a baby, one able body, a kid and a *cat*, organisation was going to be long in coming.   
  
Alvin had to spend a solid hour every day tending his plants. It was, according to him, Sacred Ritual. Fortunately, the rest of his waking hours were spent cataloguing and storing the victuals, and attempting to make a running list of things they needed.   
  
Kurt just prayed they'd make it to Ororo in time. The last thing he needed was another death because he'd been too slow to stop it.   
  
Distant shooting indicated that Pietro had run into a gang.   
  
{Zwip!} Another pile of cans appeared and for a change, Pie-pie stayed. "I think I'll take a break," he announced. "It's healthier."   
  
"Who saw you?" Kurt asked.   
  
"The Chains. Turns out I *am* faster than a speeding bullet. Haha."   
  
"Do yourself a favour. Go and clean out Forge's Lab. Bring everything here."   
  
"Forge's lab?" He blinked, not understanding.  
  
Kurt drew a map in the dirt. "We're here. It's there. Press the fifth brick from the right at eye-level and the door should open. Try not to break anything, ja? For all we know, Ororo's cure could be in there."   
  
"Checkcheckcheckeroonie," said Pietro. {Zwip!} He was gone.   
  
Kurt managed to make it over to where Kätzchen was sitting. Hope was sleeping in the baby bubble Lance had salvaged. Kurt envied her. "And how's Mama?" he asked.   
  
"Enjoying the warmth," she said. They'd placed Kätzchen's little camp in the light, since it was good for the baby as well. "I can *just* walk between here and the bathrooms, then I like, want to lie down."   
  
"Good thing we found you a La-Z-Boy," Kurt joked. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"   
  
"I'm fine, thanks." She smiled. "I wish there was something else I could do."   
  
"You've just had ein Kind," he soothed. "Recuperating and looking after her is *it*, I'm afraid."   
  
"You never touch me," she said suddenly. "Why?"   
  
"Er. I'm more than a little unusual," he admitted. "It disturbs people."   
  
She nodded. "I know. Pie-Pie told me. He said you were covered in fur."   
  
"Amongst other things," he allowed. Then decided to come clean. "Kätzchen... I'm the Bayville Demon."  
  
"Bayville Demon," Kitty repeated, recalling the events connected with that name. "I remember the pictures. I always thought you looked more like an elf, though."   
  
A pile of things Kurt could not name skidded to a halt next to him. "This is everything I could carry," Pietro's voice said from the middle of the heap.   
  
"All right," Kurt adjusted his crutches, and Pietro cocked his head at the strange, wide grin that showed all his fangs. "Put it in the jeep and let's go."   
  
"Help me into the bus?" Kitty shifted Hope to one arm and offered her other hand.   
  
"I'm kind of dirty..." Kurt wiped his hand on his pants.   
  
"You think I'm not?" she laughed.   
  
Kurt sighed and cautiously supported Kitty's elbow while she stood. Then he took her wrist and guided her palm to the side of the bus. "The door is to your right," he said. "Mind the steps."   
  
Lance, having put some tires on the bus, filled the gas tank, and hooked up the jeep, was inspecting the driver's area.   
  
"Lance," Pietro watched him. "You *have* driven a bus before, haven't you?"   
  
"Nope," the taller boy shrugged. "Never."   
  
"We're doomed," Pietro sighed.   
  
Kitty had successfully navigated the stairs and was now feeling her way into an empty seat.   
  
"Little help?" Kurt called from outside the door.   
  
Pietro accepted the proffered callipers and held them while Kurt boarded the bus in a decidedly abnormal fashion. Bracing his arms firmly on the railings, he swung himself up the stairs and swiftly fell back on his borrowed supports.   
  
"You going to ride standing up?" Pietro asked.   
  
"Nein." Kurt clumped over to a pole, propped the callipers against a seat, shimmied up the pole, and suspended himself from two convenient straps.   
  
"Is that safe?" Lance wondered.   
  
"No one's safe; you're driving," Pietro chose a seat and drew the belt tight.  
  
*******************  
  
Logan had little idea where they were. He'd stopped caring a long time ago, so long as nobody shot or threw things at him where he *did* go. Having Daisy along for the ride had sharpened his senses to that kind of reception, but still, he neither knew nor cared where they were, save for they'd been travelling north since last night.  
  
They were in some sort of town, the sign smashed and the road just the same. It might have been pretty once, and he could small salt on the breeze. A fishing village, perhaps?  
  
It hardly mattered. Now it was just a wreck - and a dusty one at that. Something acrid hung on the air, like smoke but so much bitterer. He had the notion he'd smelled it before somewhere, but the exact time and place escaped him. Probably in some dead town or other. He'd visited plenty, after all.  
  
Stores, houses, random buildings he couldn't name the purpose of - all hung open and empty, like rotting wounds. The smell of death and decay was almost all-encompassing, and he drew Daisy close, not wanting her out of his sight lest some harm befall her in this foetid place.  
  
  
  
They were just crossing what passed for a street when Logan heard the noise.   
  
He placed a bracing hand on Daisy's head, stopping them both in their tracks in the middle of the cracked road.   
  
"What is it?"   
  
"Shhhhh," Logan hushed her, straining to hear. He didn't have to strain for very long.   
  
{RmmblermmmblermmmmblegathunkgathunkgathunkgathunkGATHUNKGATHUNKGATHUNK}   
  
He almost didn't believe it when a double-decker bus barrelled straight towards them like a bogeyman rearing up and trailing gloom as a cape. It was impossible. Nobody drove anywhere anymore - hell, nobody *drove* anymore. No gas, and no reason.  
  
Despite its impossible nature, the bus didn't stop. It juddered towards them like a thing possessed, intent on mowing them down where they stood.  
  
Logan recovered his senses, grabbed Daisy, and dove for the side of the road.   
  
*******************  
  
"What was that?! Stop the bus!!" Kurt bellowed.   
  
Lance landed hard on the brakes, and the bus came to a shrieking halt. It took nearly a full block to stop, by which time Kurt had reached for his callipers, and Pietro had zwipped to his side.   
  
"Fuzzmanwhat'sgoingon?" There were no pauses between his words.   
  
"Saw something," Kurt grunted, hefting himself up.  
  
  
  
Lance had turned around in his seat, looking puzzled as the bus screeched and ground on the broken street, ostensibly wanting to keep going even with his foot flattened on the brake.   
  
"What happened?" Kitty called from her niche with Hope.   
  
"He saw something," Pietro called back.   
  
When the oversized vehicle eventually hissed to a complete stop, Kurt pushed the doors open and leapt out, mindless of his throbbing bottom.   
  
After a swift check of his plants - which were fine, even after the sharp stop - Alvin sat back in his seat murmuring softly to himself as he peered out of the window. "Ah, yes. Yes, that one."   
  
A man crouched on the side of the road, half hidden by a semi-protective pile of garbage and covering a small figure with his body.   
  
"Are you okay?" Kurt ate ground at a gallop, concerned at the lack of movement. They'd been going fast, but surely they hadn't... actually *hit* someone. Had they? People were scarce enough as it was, without them cutting down strangers in the road. "Lance doesn't know how to drive..."   
  
A short man, stout and unshaven, looked over his shoulder. His pose, Kurt could see as he drew closer, was actually more geared towards readiness for combat that protection of his person. The figure beneath him trembled, and something green flashed in the sun.   
  
*******************  
  
Logan, poised for fight, looked over his shoulder at the approaching... thing.   
  
No, wait. This thing was familiar. Appearances might change over the years, but smells didn't. Besides, who else could look like *that*?   
  
It couldn't be... could it? He'd seen the attack, he knew who'd survived and who hadn't.  
  
_But you didn't find his body._  
  
"How ya been, Elf?"   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt slowed his stride, and fell into a crouch at the man's side. The build, the shape of the face... a piece of memory prodded him into recognition.   
  
"Herr Logan?"   
  
Logan shifted, but didn't get up. The movement revealed a small child, frightened at the rapidly approaching blue shape. "It's okay," he told her in that self-same voice Kurt remembered so well. "Old friend." It was like he hadn't aged a day.  
  
Which, indubitably, he hadn't.   
  
The child relaxed a bit, but was still wary, as Logan said, slightly louder, "Yeah, Elf, it's me. Fancy meeting you here, among all this - "   
  
He was glomped by a tearful mass of blue fur before he could finish [1].   
  
"What's going on?" Lance came slowly towards them. "Did I kill someone?"   
  
"Nein, he's okay," Kurt said into Logan's shoulder, grinning. "It's Logan! Hey, Pietro!"   
  
"You got Speedy?" Logan asked, still not standing, his hand fluttering around like he didn't know where to put them. Four years had not made him any more touchy-feely than the day Kurt first met him.  
  
And he couldn't have been any gladder.  
  
"Found him the other day," Kurt nodded. "And two more from Connecticut. Not ours."   
  
Pietro staggered down the steps. "Oh... my heart..." he moaned. "I'm going to - " He got a look at the person they'd nearly run over. "Oh man, I'm going to *die*."   
  
Ignoring Pietro's remarks, Kurt sniffled and drew away from Logan, wiping a tear from his eye. "I'm so glad you're alive! I thought you were dead!"   
  
"S'funny. I thought *you* were dead."   
  
The girl-child by Logan's side whimpered at the tactile demon accosting her companion, and Kurt blinked down at her. She was a visible mutant, perhaps ten years old. Green scales swathed her light frame, and behind her a thick tail waved uncertainly. The beautiful azure feathers atop her head quivered as he hunkered down and held out a hand.  
  
"Hello, there. What's your name?"   
  
She looked up at Logan, who nodded. "Daisy. Are you a stinkin' mutie too? My Pa says that stinkin' muties look different, but *I* - "   
  
Kurt laughed loudly, and Logan chuckled. "Yes, I'm a mutant, but I don't smell that bad, do I?"   
  
Daisy blinked, then smiled and shook her head that, no, he didn't smell any worse than the disgusting muck by the sides of the roads. She pointed to the bus, and tossed a question in the air the way that children do, assuming one of them would answer her. "Who's that?"   
  
"Those are Elf's friends," Logan told her gruffly. He looked back at Kurt, and the elf noticed how his eyes stole a quick look around the desolate landscape. "This Bayville, then?"  
  
Kurt nodded.  
  
"Really must've lost track. Never thought I'd end up here again." He shook himself, exhaling loudly and meeting Kurt's gaze. He said nothing for a moment, and when he did finally speak, his voice was low. "We're gonna go with them. Would you like that, Daisy?"   
  
"If'n you say so. Do they have anythin' to read?" She looked at him hopefully.   
  
"I'm sure they'll be plenty o' road signs to read on the way."   
  
"Where're we goin'?"   
  
There was a short pause in which Logan looked at Kurt expectantly. The elf drew himself up, and lurched sideways on one calliper. "We're going to see a Goddess."   
  
*******************  
  
Robyn hunkered near the door and watched. People were coming out of the *woodwork*! Then she spotted the small figure in Herr Logan's wake.   
  
They both froze at the same time, staring at each other. Then, slowly inching forward, they both walked up to each other.   
  
Both had their mouths open. One stared up, the other stared down. Curious hands reached forward to pet the other's cheek. Hushed, awed voices whispered, "Wow..."   
  
"I'm Daisy," said Daisy.   
  
"Robyn LeFleur," said Robyn. "I like your scales, they're pretty."   
  
Daisy grinned. "Your fur's very nice. Is *everyone* here a st - a mutie? Like Logan an' me?"   
  
"Logan and I," Robyn corrected, calling on the lessons Kurti had given her in proper language. "Um. I think Alvin's a human. He hasn't *done* anything yet."   
  
Daisy pointed at the plants in awe. "Thems are *flowers*. Like my name."   
  
"Yup," said Robyn. "Alvin brought them."   
  
Daisy nodded, as if people bringing plants when there weren't any was perfectly normal. "The stoopid madmen brought 'em for trade, sometimes. Pa says they don't have no brains in their heads, an' the plants're prolly poison. He said they're all stinkin' mutie lovers."   
  
"Um," said Robyn. "*We're* muties."   
  
Daisy didn't see any conflict in that. "That's okay. I'm not with my Pa anymore. And Logan don't like me talkin' 'bout what Pa says."   
  
"Your Pa doesn't like much, does he?"   
  
Daisy shook her head. "Nope."  
  
*******************  
  
"A Goddess?" Logan raised an eyebrow, wondering if the Elf had lost it. After all, he was still here...   
  
Kurt took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. Elation mixed with sorrow, a whirlwind... Herr Logan... alive...   
  
_Focus,_ he told himself. Spotting Robyn and her discovery, he had to smile. It would be good for her to have another child to play with. And when Hope was old enough... _Hang on. One step at a time._   
  
"A Goddess," he affirmed, his smile growing bigger. He gave Logan a significant look. "And a mortal one at that..."   
  
Logan's breath hitched slightly. "'Ro?"   
  
Kurt nodded. "That is, if Herr Alvin here is to be believed. He's a bit... how shall I say it? Loopy? But then, I suppose we all are..." He sobered slightly. "She's sick, I think. Tired. Worn out. We should get to her as soon as possible."   
  
"Well then, let's go," Logan answered in a get-to-business tone. He followed Kurt, and almost-pushed Daisy onto the bus in the elf's wake.  
  
Kurt carefully took to his former seat and then made introductions as everyone settled in, Pietro sitting as far from the door Logan was to enter by as possible, while still being in the vehicle.   
  
"This ist Herr Logan and Daisy, everyone... the driver over there is Lance, this is Kitty, her baby Hope, you know Pietro," he paused and gave the speed-demon a funny look before going on, "That's Robyn and Alvin."   
  
"You forgot someone, Kurti!" Robyn called. She was sitting next to Daisy.   
  
Kurt stared at her. "Who did I forget?"   
  
Robyn held up the cat. "You forgot... uh... you forgot..." She blinked. "Kitty..."  
  
"No he didn't. I heard him mention me," the blind girl called.  
  
Robyn shook her hand and lay the cat in her lap. "No name," she said softly, scratching it behind its ears. Daisy hopped up beside her.  
  
"Well pick one, then. Logan gave me a name, an' he said *ev'ryone* gotta have a *name*."  
  
"Even cats?"  
  
She nodded, firm. "Even cats."  
  
*******************  
  
Logan boarded the bus after the kids, and was greeted by quite possibly the strangest statement he'd heard in his long lifetime.   
  
"Two dance eternally, steward of six walks road of holes."   
  
"The heck?" Logan stopped, staring at the small, oddly-dressed man in front of him.   
  
"Your destiny," the man said. "As proclaimed by the Goddess' texts."   
  
"Fraulein Ororo's made quite a name for herself in our brave new world," Kurt explained. "She seems to have prophecies for all of us."   
  
This caught Daisy's attention. "Anything for me?" she asked hopefully.   
  
"I don't recall any children being mentioned," Alvin frowned. "But perhaps in the text..."   
  
"You have a book?" The girl's eyes fairly shone. "I wanna read it!"   
  
"The Goddess will heal the world," Logan mumbled, half to himself.   
  
"Mm?" Kurt's ears picked up the decidedly un-Logan-ish revelation.   
  
"Read it somewhere," Logan said shortly. "Just like 'Ro to go all save-the-planet." He paused in thought. "What was your fortune cookie, Elf?"   
  
"I... don't know." Kurt searched his memories.   
  
"Love is the food of angels, a demon rises, with five hands he shall hold the world," Robyn supplied, in the manner of one learning rote.   
  
"Good observin', kid," Logan nodded. "Elf, I expected better from you."   
  
"He was nearly unconscious at the time," Robyn said on Kurti's behalf.   
  
Logan grunted and slid into the driver's seat.   
  
"Hey!" Lance protested.   
  
Logan gave him a Look that was not to be argued with. "Siddown, and let's see if we can *not* have any more near-misses."  
  
Daisy brought her knees up and stared at the cat. "Well? What're you gonna name it, then? Izzit a girl-cat, or a boy-cat?"  
  
"Girl-cat." Robyn paused, thinking of an appropriate name. "Schwartzi."   
  
"Schwartzi's my raven, liebe," said Kurt with a smile. "Why not just go with 'Blackie'?"   
  
"Too ordinary," she said. "She's a *special* cat."   
  
Logan sniffed, frowning in a distracted way. He shook his head. "Missy?" he suggested, twisting the wires in the gaping dashboard together to restart the bus. It sputtered and groaned, then roared into life.  
  
Robyn firmly shook her head.   
  
"Petunia," said Daisy. "That's a pretty flower."   
  
Grunting, Logan started driving the bus. This sort of debate could go on all day, and he was conscious of Kurt's eyes in the back of his neck. The elf had questions Logan wasn't ready to answer yet, and the best way he knew of avoiding answering was to keep busy. "Hey, bub," he said to the zealot. "Where the hell are we goin' anyway?"   
  
Alvin just smiled.  
  
*******************  
  
The Lands of New Hope.   
  
Or at least, that's what they proclaimed themselves, according to the painted-over sign. It had once been a quasi-industrial town in Dirtwater, Nowhere, but Ororo had turned it into a baby forest.   
  
Just a couple more days, and she could have the microclimate down. But she was so tired. She couldn't sleep, not for long, she had so much to do. So much to organise. So much to fix.   
  
But the microclimate was most important. That way, if she fell, the poor innocent plants would live.   
  
Just a couple more days...   
  
Her knees gave way again, and attending worshipers gently guided her to the wheelchair they'd insisted on gilding for her. She'd tried so hard, but they still worshipped her. She was just a woman with an impressive power, with weaknesses and foibles of any other women.   
  
She'd lost her entire family. Evan and she had been separated by a mob. She didn't even know if he'd survived. Four years was a long time for a question mark to exist.   
  
Four years was a very long time to go without proper rest.   
  
She could wait a couple more days...  
  
*******************  
  
"Rosie?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Poppy?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Buttercup?"   
  
"She's not *yellow*."   
  
Kurt peered down at the two girls, watching them search through all the names they could think for their feline companion. Well, sort of, anyway. Daisy did most of the suggesting. Robyn was doing all of the rejecting. For her part, the cat stayed placidly in between them, curled up on the battered seat with its tail over its face, completely unperturbed by Logan's erratic driving.   
  
_Wish I could say the same,_ the elf thought, as another hole in the road appeared out of nowhere and the bus lurched to one side in accordance. _Ach, and I thought Lance was bad._   
  
Kitty had settled herself as far from the cat as she could, still not trusting it around Hope, even though the queen had made no move of interest towards the baby. Lance sat with his arm around the young mother, also glaring at the oblivious feline.   
  
By some chance, they'd seated themselves behind Alvin, who was ostensibly dozing. His head nodded onto his chest, hat slipping slightly askew with every bump and jolt in the tarmac. A small potted plant was clutched possessively in his slumbering hands where he'd previously been tending it, and the staff they'd arranged for his injured limb lay half across his lap.   
  
Kurt looked about for the last member of their motley group. He spotted him cowering at the very back of the bus, and cocked his head at the other boy's sudden nervousness.   
  
Pietro stared out of the huddle he'd drawn himself into, eyes fixed on the back of Logan's head where he sat in the driver's cubicle. The elder man didn't even acknowledge his stare, but the albino retained his silent vigil, twitching every now and then like he'd been bitten by some insect.   
  
Kurt frowned. What was wrong with him? Pietro should be happy they'd found more mutants, more survivors. Yet he was treating Herr Logan like he was some dangerous threat, and barely glanced at Daisy since the two of them boarded the bus.   
  
With a good deal of straining, the elf slowly levered himself down to floor level, taking care to touch down when he was sure the dusty ground would stay where it was long enough for him to get his balance. As if on cue, they hit a smoother patch of road, and Kurt descended with a sigh and hobbled his way to the back of the bus with more than a little help from seat-backs that could be easily clutched at.   
  
Pietro's gaze flickered briefly at his approach, but immediately returned to Logan an instant later. However, he took time out of his one-sided staring contest to say; "Shouldn't you be resting?"   
  
"How can I rest when you're acting so strange?"   
  
"I'm not acting strange."   
  
"Jawohl, you are," Kurt replied steadily. "You've been jumpy as a jackrabbit on hot coals ever since we found Herr Logan and little Daisy."   
  
"No I hav - "   
  
"Yes, you have." Kurt's frown deepened. "Look, can I sit down?"   
  
At this, the blue eyes raised at him. Pietro shrugged and shifted across a little, closer to the grimy window. Kurt sank down next to him with a grateful breath, careful to keep off the wounded area towards the back of his hindquarters by cushioning himself with his tail. It was uncomfortable, but a lot less painful then sitting directly on throbbing cuts and gouges, however well they were dressed.   
  
Pietro spared him a look, which he returned like for like. "Look, Pietro. If we're going to be travelling together in such close quarters as this, then I think it'd be better if none of us keep secrets from each other. Come on, spit it out. Why are you so nervous around Herr Logan? He hasn't done anything to you, has he?"   
  
Pietro chewed his lip, not looking at the other boy. "I can't... you're so happy to see the dude. Gotta admit, I didn't think he was still around, no matter what anyone said about his powers... I don't wanna spoil things for ya."   
  
"Was?" Kurt was confused. "What are you talking about, mein Freund? I don't understand?"   
  
The dirt under his fingernails suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world for Pietro as he studiously avoided Kurt's eye. Then he sighed, still not meeting his questioning gaze. "I didn't tell you 'bout it before. Thought I could keep my little secret under wraps, I guess. But now that blade-dude's here. He knows, so he'll tell. I'm sure of it. Saw me, so how could he *not* tell? Dunno what you'll think of me now. Wouldn't blame you if you threw me clean off the bus. *I'd* chuck me out, if I were you. There goes Pietro, back to Bayville. Best place for a jerk like - "   
  
"Pietro!" Kurt cut in, then dropped his voice at the curious stare directed his way by Lance. "Pietro, you're not making any sense."   
  
"Aren't I?" Pietro blinked. "Hmmm, guess I'm not. Sorry. Too used to talking to myself. Well, you see Fuzzy, it's like this. After the X-Virus came and... ruined everything, I did something terrible. I'm not just talking bad, here. I mean, like, shoot-you-for-treason-in-the-army-awful. And, well - basically, good old Wolverine over there saw me do it."   
  
"And?" said Kurt after a few minutes.   
  
"And what? End of story. He saw me. Now I'm scared he's gonna wanna kill me for being such a scumbag."   
  
"You left out something."   
  
"What?"   
  
"What's so horrible you think Herr Logan would resort to violence against you four years later?"   
  
"I - " the words died in the albino's throat, and he let his chin drop onto his thin chest. "Yeah, why not?" A careless pale hand waved Kurt's way. "What not tell you now? Doesn't matter much about what you think. Wolverine'll kick me out anyway, so why shouldn't you know? At least I'll be able to tell *my* side this way."   
  
He paused only a moment longer, and then launched into a sprawl of words strung so closely together it made Kurt's head reel to listen to them. "After the X-Virus, the Brotherhood was pretty much over. We got split up, didn't know where Mystique had gone. Todd and I, we went into hiding. Looked out for each other, y'know? We had it pretty cosy for a while. The company wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. I thought - well, it doesn't much matter now what I thought back then, but I kinda hoped that we could just wait the bad stuff out. We'd come out of hiding a few years down the line and everything would've blown over. Some dream, huh?"   
  
"Pietro, I - "   
  
"Please - let me finish! I was coming back from foraging one day. Good load, I had, full of edible goodies for the two of us. Things had been a bit thin on the ground, and Todd - well, he couldn't get out much 'cause of a run-in we had a while back with some nutballs and a coupla bricks. But when I got home... there were people there. Lots of people. They... they had guns, and planks of wood with nails in the end, and all sorts of stuff like that. They'd found our hideaway, with Todd inside. I... I could hear him screaming. And d'ya know what I did?" He raised his face, and Kurt was surprised to see tears in his eyes, glossing over the impossibly blue irises with a wet sheen. "I ran away. Can you believe it? he was still alive - being tortured, and I ran *away*. That was when Wolverine over there saw me. Guy musta heard the fuss and come looking for a fight. He looked rough, real rough, and I ran from him too. But I knew he'd seen me. He knew what I'd done. I... I went back afterwards, but Todd - his body was gone. Where... I dunno. Don't like to think. Guess that's why I started cleaning up Bayville. Figured other folk should get better than what he got. *That's* why I'm gonna get thrown offa this trip, Kurt. *That's* my big 'ole secret. Happy now?"   
  
The fact that he'd used his proper name didn't bother Kurt at all. He was too shocked to say anything much, and just kept opening and shutting his mouth, fish-like until his voice returned. When it did, he said softly; "Pietro, *I* buried Todd. I found his body, and I gave him the best kind of funeral I could at the time. I... I assumed that, since he was alone, he was all that was left of the Brotherhood."   
  
Pietro's jaw dropped. "*You* buried him?"   
  
"Ja, and Pietro, Herr Logan wouldn't hold what you did against you. I....I did something similar, and he hasn't done anything against me." _Yet,_ whispered a little voice in his mind, but he hushed it and pushed the thought to the back of his brain.   
  
"You?" the speed-demon snorted. "I find that hard to believe. You're the original Mr. 'let-go-save-people'. Forgive me if I find the idea of you running away a little difficult to swallow."   
  
"It's not as difficult as you might think," Kurt said sadly, bowing his head. "I let my teammates down because of my own fears. I'm no different than you, mein Freund. So if Herr Logan wants to throw you out, then he'll have to send me packing with you."   
  
Pietro wrinkled his nose. "Don't be stupid," he admonished. "Wolverine would never do that to a member of his own team."   
  
"So he's not going to do it to you, either. Remember, Pietro, it was *you* who told me that Mutantkind is just one big team now. Remember that? Herr Logan knows it better than anybody, believe me. He knows that emotions are very powerful things, and can make people act in ways they usually wouldn't do. It's been four years since it all started. Let go of the past, Pietro, and look to the future."   
  
Pietro gaped for a minute, and then, slowly, a small smile crept upon his lips. "Thanks, man," he said. "I mean it. Thanks." And he did.   
  
"No problem," Kurt replied, brushing the thanks aside like they were nothing.   
  
All the same, though, he made no move to return to his more comfortable seat above floor-level. And both of them were glad of that.   
  
*******************  
  
A few seats in front of them, two pools of luminous green opened, and a small head twitched and turned to where the sounds of their voices had ceased.   
  
_Kurt,_ thought Mystique sadly, _And Pietro. I never even considered either of you were alive out there in that wilderness. How much could I have prevented if I'd entertained the idea? Is that another nightmare to add to my catalogue? A what-if?_   
  
On impulse, the black cat got to her feet and padded across to Robyn's lap. There, she rubbed herself against the small girl, tickling her and raising herself up to place front paws on her thin shoulders. There, she watched the two boys seated together at the very back. She watched them for several minutes, before finally letting out an insignificant mew of remorse at what could've been.   
  
Logan suddenly yanked on the parking brake, sending them all careening forward in a rash of cusses and skidding heels.   
  
"Someone's on this bus," he said by way of explanation.   
  
"Uh, yeah," Lance said condescendingly, holding tight to Kitty. "There's eight of us."   
  
Logan chose to ignore that, and inspected each passenger closely, beginning with Elf and working around to Robyn. "You," he growled.   
  
"Me?" Robyn said in a small voice.   
  
"No." Logan glared at the cat in her arms. "*You*."   
  
"Herr Logan?" Kurt said, his tone betraying how he obviously wondered what had happened to his teacher over the last few years. "It's a cat."   
  
"Ain't no cat." Logan picked the animal up by the scruff of its neck and dumped it on the floor, causing Robyn to cry out. "Get up, you," he said brusquely.   
  
Sighing inwardly, Mystique and unfolded herself from the borrowed form. A few gasps greeted the display, but she had eyes only for Logan, and they were cold as ice. "Long time no see," she said frostily.   
  
"Boss-lady?" Pietro quavered.   
  
"Who's here?" Kitty asked.   
  
"It's the prophesied Lady Mobius!" Alvin exclaimed. "Many faces, one woman." He laughed as another of the Goddess' mysterious statements suddenly became clear.   
  
"It's my *mother*," Kurt's tone reflected his uncertainty of how to react.   
  
"Now that's cleared up," Logan went back to the wheel, "We can get on."   
  
"Aren't you going to fight?" Pietro asked timidly.   
  
"For what?" Logan sat down and released the hand-brake. "World's been pretty much obliterated already."  
  
Mystique stared. She'd been so used to fighting. So used to struggle, that she didn't know what to do when someone metaphorically buried the hatchet.   
  
She and Logan had been enemies for too long.   
  
The fuzzy girl-child was staring at her.   
  
"Yes?" she asked, tone harder than she meant it to be.   
  
"Are you like my Mom?"   
  
_What?_ "I - don't understand."   
  
"Well, if you're Kurti's Mom, and Kurti's like my big brother, are you like my Mom?"   
  
"I - I don't know..." she said, sinking for a moment into the self-pity she'd been prone to in the past. "I've never really been a good mother. Not to any of my children."   
  
Robyn reached out and tentatively took her hand. "That's OK. I've never had a Mom. We can learn together."  
  
"Learn...." the word seemed so simple when she said it, but Mystique was struck by a pang as she remembered what had happened when she tried to 'learn' parenting before.   
  
Robyn watched her for a moment, then slid off the seat and took the blue woman's hand. Mystique started at the touch, jolted from her thoughts, and looked down at the little cat-girl.   
  
"Are you having a Sad Time, too? Like Kurti does?"   
  
"A Sad Time?" She recalled hearing the phrase before, when she'd been lying in the shadows observing her son and his young charge not a few hours ago. "I don't know. Am I?"   
  
"You look like it. Your eyes are all wet. Here, you can use the hankie Mr. Alvin gave me if you like." The scrap of fabric thrust towards her, and Mystique took it and dabbed at the tears she hadn't realised she was shedding. "That better?"   
  
"Yes. Much."   
  
"Would you like to sit down with us?" Robyn gestured to the seat where Daisy perched awkwardly, peering up curiously every now and then at them.   
  
"Yes. Yes I would." Sparing one last glance at the back of Logan's head, Mystique allowed herself to be led away, and sat demurely with her hands in her lap, looking at the floor.   
  
She was startled again when a breathy, childish voice to her left said; "Are you gonna be her new Mommy?"   
  
Mystique blinked at Daisy. "I - uh - "   
  
"She is," Robyn replied firmly, and retook her hand. The shapeshifter's fingers were bulky and ungainly compared to the little girl's claws, and her gaze was drawn to just how delicate the child's hands were. So dainty. So small. She almost felt that to return the comforting squeeze she received would be to snap them in two.   
  
"Oh," said Daisy sadly. "I ain't got no Mommy no more. She n' Pa sent me away with Logan. She said not to call her 'Mommy' a long time ago, 'cause she didn't wanna be mother to no freak. Pa only liked me to call him 'Daddy' when he an' his friends were... doin' stuff on me." She bit her lip, and whispered, "Logan says I'm not to think 'bout that stuff no more. Says, if'n he ever gets a'hold of my Pa, he'll gut 'im with a toothpick. But it's hard to forget on purpose."   
  
Mystique didn't even realise what she was doing at first. Her arm just seemed to move on its own until it had encircled the little lizard-girl and pulled her close into a half-hug. Daisy yelped, struggling a little at first. But when she realised Mystique meant her no harm she stopped, and even went so far as to lean into the embrace.   
  
"Can you be *my* Mommy too?" she murmured.   
  
"'Course she can," Robyn answered for her. "Kurti says that family's really important, and they look after each other. So, if we all look out for one another, then we're all family." To her, it all made perfect sense.  
  
"That mean you're my new sister?"   
  
Robyn paused a second, and then said, "I guess it does. I got two brothers - Kurti, and Pie-Pie, but no sister."   
  
"Do now."   
  
Mystique looked between the two of them in happy bewilderment. In turn, two sets of eyes gazed back at her.   
  
_Perhaps it's fitting,_ she mused to herself. _I failed both of my biological children, so my second chance has come twofold in these two. I never thought I'd get a second chance at all. I won't make the same mistakes I did before._   
  
"So, what are your names, little ones?"   
  
"I'm Daisy, after the flower," Daisy stated proudly.   
  
"I'm Robyn LeFleur, but everybody just calls me Robyn." The younger of the two girls nestled close, inhaling deeply. "Mmmm, you smell nice," she yawned, showing whiter than white teeth and a delicate pink tongue. "Ooh, excuse me. I was up all night with Kurti, so I'm a bit tired." She yawned again.   
  
"You can lean on me to sleep, if you like," Mystique offered. "I won't let you fall."   
  
Robyn accepted, and curled her tufted tail around to cover her nose as she was wont to do in slumber. Mystique wrapped an arm around her and held her tight against the bumps of the bus on the jagged road.   
  
"Thanks, Mommy."   
  
Mystique's smile would've put even the Cheshire Cat to shame.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[11] Isn't glomp the best word? 


	9. Clemency

*******************  
  
Ninth Fragment ~ 'Clemency'  
  
*******************  
  
Elf was staring at him as he drove. It was heading into the wee small hours and everyone else was long asleep. Yet two glowing orbs hardly blinked at all, and watched.   
  
It was damn unnerving to see the Elf in the dark. He looked like he was hardly there at all. A novice at seeing him at night would only spot the lights of his eyes if they were lucky. Logan, however, was long used to his habit of invisibility, and could pick out the parts that weren't completely transparent.   
  
"Somethin' buggin' you, Elf?"   
  
"Were were you?" he asked. "Where were you when they came?"   
  
No accusations, just a simple question. "I was out gettin' supplies," he said. "'Ro wanted to cook you kids somethin' special, buck up morale. When I came back... I saw the mob, saw 'Ro get out with Porcupine... smelled the blood..." he winced. "I couldn't go an' look, Elf. I'm sorry, but I couldn't bear to look." A minute of silence. "Tearin' the mob apart wouldn't've done anything. You know that, now."   
  
"Ja. I know." The look in his eyes had said it all. He'd tried vengeance. It hadn't tasted as good as he thought it would.   
  
"Took me a few decades to learn *that* lesson," said Logan. "I always knew you were quick. Anyway, I dropped the supplies an' bugged outta there. Caught your scent a coupla times, early on, an' nothin' after that. Figured they'd got ya. Went lookin' for 'Ro. Been on the road ever since."   
  
"That's all you've been doing for four years? Looking?"   
  
"Lotta land to search, Elf. Managed to help some survivors start a settlement, but most of the time I've been scavengin' an' tradin'." He looked briefly at him. "You?"   
  
"Scavenging," said Kurt. "I found Robyn shortly after the virus hit. I made a little home and looked after her. Buried anyone I knew. Survived."   
  
Logan nodded. He knew that song.   
  
"They cut Jean's throat," he said. "She wore herself out protecting them, and they walked right up to her and cut her throat. Scott must have been distracted. A fatal moment. They shot him twice and let him bleed. They shot the Professor..." One hand touched the middle of his forehead. "Shotgun. Point blank."   
  
Logan winced again. He knew what that did to a body. He knew what finding the bodies must have done to the Elf. _God, I'm too sorry, Elf. I shoulda done it for ya. Let you keep your innocence one more day. I shoulda stayed. Shoulda fought. Shoulda died with 'em..._ He'd had roughly two hundred years of surviving, and knowing when to cut and run. It was a tough habit to break.   
  
"They finished Scott off afterwards. And some bastard cut off his hand for a keepsake. I never found Evan or Ororo." He sighed. "At least they got a Christian burial."   
  
And the human race was still paying for that one year of madness. What a sad, battered world they'd all made.   
  
It had taken four years, but some folks were picking up the pieces and making good.   
  
*******************  
  
She stumbled along without looking at many landmarks. They were difficult to see in the dust, and her eyes itched if she opened them too wide. All she knew was that she was on the right road. The minister had said so.   
  
Cracked tarmac slashed her feet on many occasions, but the soles were well worn and hard. A result of travelling cross-country without shoes, no doubt. Her skin was leathery in places, where it'd been exposed to the elements. She didn't care. Aesthetic beauty was something consigned to the past. She had no need of it anymore. No need for anything.   
  
Except the path home, of course.   
  
She passed many places - dark, desolate, dead. They offered up no survivors, and she went on, stopping only long enough to raid nearby homes for food that she tore at whilst still on the move. There was no time for rest. No time for sleep. No time for anything, save plodding onwards towards her destination.   
  
She came upon it quite suddenly. It seemed she'd fallen into a waking dream again, her mind cloudy with thoughts not her own, for when she looked up, tall buildings ringed her sight, leering over at her like a canopy of bricks and glass. The tarmac river became wider, and marked with various lines that criss-crossed beneath her feet like snakes. A pavement appeared, smashed and broken, but *there* all the same, and from it sprang dusty lampposts and pillar-boxes, besmirched with grime and filth.   
  
Then she saw it. A single white placard hanging haphazardly from its roost. The bottom half had long since been lost, but enough writing remained for her to gasp with happiness.   
  
_Welcome to Bayville_  
  
"Bayville...." she whispered, and quickened her step.   
  
She'd done it. She'd returned.   
  
But not quite yet. There were still a few more streets to travel before she truly reached her journey's end, and she sped through them at such an unswerving pace that it was difficult to believe she'd ever been away.   
  
Then, there it was. The Boarding House hove into view, and she all but ran up the driveway to the door. It swung open on its hinge, but she didn't care. She'd finally done it!   
  
She was home.   
  
But wait! Something was strange. Something was... wrong.   
  
Where was everybody?   
  
The house stood empty and deserted, thick puddles of dust testament to the absence of people for a considerably long time. She ran in, making footprints as she went, and burst into the kitchen.   
  
Nothing.   
  
The sitting room. There was always somebody in the sitting room. The TV in her memories blared relentlessly, and a small green figure was always curled up on the sofa, laughing at some gameshow or Spanish soap opera he didn't understand; while a thin, pale body draped over the back of the couch, mocking him.   
  
But there was no-one.   
  
Upstairs proved just as fruitless, though the staircase creaked exactly as she remembered it. Their rooms were the same too. One held the last remnants of a pungent aroma akin to mould, and another was festooned with several mirrors and various athletic medals and winning ribbons.   
  
But they held no people. Nor had done for quite some time, either. The showy one was no different, if a little cleaner. Gold glittered harshly, mocking her with its empty glare and metallic sheen until she ran to her own room.   
  
Her room.   
  
It was exactly as she'd left it, even down to the pair of dirty socks in the corner. She'd meant to do the laundry the next day before... before she was taken. Collect it from the two boys and Boss Lady and beat the washing machine until it worked. It was always playing up. Ever since Boss Lady brought her here. There wasn't enough money for a new one, she'd been told. Most stores didn't serve mutants anymore...  
  
She held her head as memories thrummed against her skull. This wasn't right. This wasn't *right*. They were meant to be here. Her team - her family - they were supposed to be waiting for her! It was what she'd been telling herself ever since she escaped. Now she was here, and they weren't.   
  
Why weren't they here for her? Why?   
  
She staggered downstairs and out of the door, clutching at her skull. Alien thoughts mixed with her own, taunting her and her useless journey. All that effort, and for what? An empty house in an empty street in an empty town. Big deal. She'd have been better off staying at the lab, where she could've at least done some *productive*, instead of wandering out in this wasteland chasing rainbows.   
  
"All gone," her mantra slipped from her lips, tinged with desperation. "Gone. All gone. All gooooooone!"   
  
And she screamed. screamed for all she'd lost and hoped to regain. Screamed for her pain, and the pain of others left behind in order for her to reach this place once called home.   
  
"Aaaaaaaall gooooooooooooone!"   
  
The street echoed with her grief as she fell sobbing to her knees, scratching at the old sewn-up wounds *They* had inflicted on her head, and *Their* voices laughed at her inside her own brain as she wept for what she'd been denied.   
  
Bayville was a ghost town. Everybody dead, just like everywhere else.   
  
"All gone," she cried, pressing her face into the dust. "All go-o-one."   
  
She stumbled to her feet, mourning all the while.   
  
"All gone. Gone. Gone, all. All gone. Gone, gone, *gone*!"   
  
Houses passed in a blur, smeared with tears into a blotch of meaningless colour and shapes. They didn't matter. None of this mattered. What use was it when the things she'd come back for, the people she'd sacrificed so much to return to, had up and left without her?   
  
Or were dead.   
  
Finally, she came to rest on the steps of what had once been City Hall. The stone was cold and hard, and she climbed it on her hands and knees to perch behind one of the great stone lions, as she'd done so many times before in sport and just for a quiet spot to read. There she was out of sight, but could see everything if she wanted to.   
  
Exhaustion at last came to claim her, and her weary eyelids began to droop through her tears. She drew her knees up to her chest, wedging herself further in between the pillar and stone rump so that she wouldn't fall out in her slumber.   
  
This was wrong. It was all of it wrong. Something must have happened to make it so wrong, she reasoned, logic warping slightly in her befuddled brain.   
  
She'd find out what had happened. She'd find out, and avenge her kin if they were dead.   
  
And that was a promise.   
  
"All.... gone..."   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro had taken a long time to work up to being angry. He'd been afraid of Mystique for so long that any other motion had to have a decent run-up to get in.   
  
Finally, he decided to ask.   
  
"Where were you when they killed him?"   
  
Mystique gaped. Then she looked down and away. "Not in front of the children. Please? They need a mother... I need to try. Please, I need to try to do it right, just once. I failed all my babies. I even betrayed some... I-- please? Don't ask. Not now. Not in front of them?"   
  
It was no act. She was genuinely upset and ashamed of something.   
  
"It's bigger than running away," he said bluntly. "Isn't it?"  
  
Mystique managed a mute nod. She shed a tear.   
  
Click. It hit him like a ton of bricks. His knees buckled at the very thought, and his voice came out as a hoarse whisper, inaudible above the noise of the bus. "You were *in* the mob."   
  
Nod. "Safest place to hide. I've done it before[1]... I even tried to let him escape. But the mob wouldn't let him. There *was* no escape. Half of them were sick with the plague. They thought killing him would cure them..." She shook her head. "Thank whatever God you love that you didn't see what I saw that night, Pietro. It sent me mad..."   
  
Pietro snorted. "Mad? You don't even know what madness *is*! Try living alone for four years with only a bunch of corpses for company, Mystique, *then* tell me you know what madness is. Try going to sleep every night, only to be taunted by *things* that only you can see. Ghosts that haunt you every waking moment because they're all in here," he tapped the side of his head, "Just waiting for you to let your guard down enough that they can start again!"   
  
Mystique shifted protectively in her seat, holding the sleeping forms of Robyn and Daisy close. Her eyes were full of hurt, but the albino kept going. Everyone else was asleep - even the elf. Everyone save for Logan, and he seemed quite willing to let the recently awakened shapeshifter and speed-demon carry out their little conversation unhindered.   
  
Logan knew the value of airing grievances instead of letting them fester.  
  
Except these had already festered for four years.  
  
Pietro narrowed his eyes. "You know what, Mystique? I used to be afraid of you. You were my boss, and my principal for a while, and my nightmare for even longer. Even when you were gone, your memory hung over my head, worse than any ghost. But d'ya know what? I'm not scared anymore." His hands balled into fists, but he kept them firmly to his sides where he sat, a few seats back from her. "You disgust me. Bad enough you abandoned us when we needed you the most; but to think that you actually took part in that... that..." Words failed him.   
  
"Pietro, I'm sorry - "   
  
"Sorry doesn't cut it, Mystique. You saved your own carcass at the expense of Todd's life. You sold him out, just like that." He snapped his fingers. "Guess Kurt was right to stay at Xavier's. I mean, who'd want *you* as a mother? What're you gonna do if the going gets tough this time? Huh? You gonna sell out Robyn and Daisy as easy as you did Todd and me? As easy as you did Rogue?"   
  
Tears welled in Mystique's eyes, and she shook her head, choking out; "Please, stop. You know I went after her when... You know... I-I didn't mean to lose you - any of you."   
  
"So you say," he shot back coldly. "But what am I supposed to think now, Mystique? You killed Todd. How do I know you didn't do the same to her to save you own skin?"   
  
A loud sob escaped Mystique's throat, and she bowed her head. She looked so broken and lost it was difficult to believe she was the same domineering woman who had terrorised Bayville High four years ago.   
  
Pietro looked at her, but he felt nothing but contempt, and opened his mouth to voice it some more.   
  
"That's enough, kid." Logan finally entered the fray, and turned his head a fraction to fix one beady eye on the pale boy. "She's down. Don't kick her anymore."   
  
Pietro paused a moment, then shrugged. "Whatever."   
  
He swivelled to the window and leaned against the inside of the bus, closing his eyes as if in sleep. Yet the line of his mouth remained grim, and the lack of muttering to his nightmares indicated that he was still very much awake.   
  
Mystique watched him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so... so sorry."  
  
Pietro didn't know it, but he was wrong. Mystique *was* insane, but it was the quiet sort of insanity that didn't show up well to the intuitive observer.   
  
He couldn't know, for example, that she was haunted.   
  
"Pie-Pie's right, yo. Sorry doesn't cut it."   
  
Every time she was in human form, he found her. Over the years, she'd learned that thinking at him was just as effective as talking to him, and much less likely to scare off roving traders.   
  
_It's all I've got,_ she thought. _I tried to steer them. I tried to make them humiliate you, instead. I *tried*... but they had other ideas._   
  
"You *betrayed* me. I trusted you, Boss Lady. I thought you were gonna protect me. You *promised*, yo."   
  
_I know. I know. But all I have is 'I'm sorry'._   
  
"Remember? When I was just a kid?" His battered, abused corpse changed into the half-starved and grubby little boy she'd found in the home of a murder-suicide. "Am I gonna go to a home? I heard they do things to kids my age in homes... Stuff worse'n Dad n' Uncle Harry."   
  
Mystique remembered what she'd said. "No," she'd said. "I have a better place. A better future. I'll protect you. Keep you safe. I promise."   
  
_I'm so sorry... I tried. I tried so hard..._   
  
"Yeah. Right," he snorted. Back to the bloody, broken body they'd left when their rage was done. His voice turned mocking. "'He's just a kid. You're gonna kill a *kid*?' That's it. That's all you said. You coulda come up wit' some speech, yo. You coulda said somepin' bout *me*. Somepin' good for a change... but all you had to tell 'em was that I was a kid. Yo, that was *stupid*."   
  
_What did you want me to do? Die *with* you?_   
  
"Maybe."   
  
_And what would dying have done?_   
  
"At least I wouldn't have been alone, yo. Alone's the worst. You know that. I'd do anything rather than be alone. *Anything*."   
  
_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'd do anything too... that's why I want a second chance._   
  
"You want a second-chance, Boss Lady?" He tipped his head, like he'd been waiting for her to say something like that. "Have a son. Call 'im Todd. And look after him every second of the day. *That's* your second chance."   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt silently watched his mother, mixed emotions ghosting over his face.   
  
She was crying and shaking and silently screaming, as if demons were tearing at her mind. Her arms hugged the two small forms beside her as if she could steal their strength, their oblivious dreams.   
  
And he was torn. He had awoken to hear Logan say something to Pietro. Something... he did not know what. But now Raven was shaking. And he was watching. Some sort of realisation came over her cerulean features and she glanced around the bus. Their eyes met and she gave the slightest shake of her head, as if dismissing something.   
  
"Are you all right?" she whispered.   
  
"Are you?" he said by way of answer. She started slightly and turned to stare out the window. "Why are you here? And why a cat?"   
  
"I... I... when I discovered that... when I saw you alive..."   
  
Kurt nodded. Nothing else needed to be said. They had all been through things that no living being should ever have to endure. The past was the past, in many way irrelevant now...   
  
She must have seen the forgiveness in his eyes, for she shook her head, fresh tears flowing down her cheeks. "I might as well tell you... Pietro will if I don't... I-I-I... I let him die. Todd. I saved myself... and let him die. I helped him die."   
  
Kurt nearly choked on the emotions welling in his throat. He attempted a watery smile. "Like mother, like son, eh?"   
  
She blinked.   
  
"I... I ran too. I was scared and I ran. And they died."   
  
Raven's eyes grew wide with sympathy. "Oh, Kurt," she whispered. "I never... please... I never wanted such things for you... you never deserved... you still don't..."   
  
Kurt closed his eyes and let out a breath he felt like he had been holding all his life. "Maybe there's hope... for us..."   
  
Raven Darkholme hugged the two sleeping forms closer and silenced the voice of the past for but a moment.   
  
"...hope..."   
  
*******************  
  
Noise.   
  
That was the first thing that heralded her return to consciousness.   
  
Noise.   
  
Then, after a few moments, it diverged into voices.   
  
Human voices.   
  
People?   
  
She cracked open an eyelid, sleep still clinging to her and dragging it back down again. The voices continued, and she opened her one eye again. It was still dark out, and most of her body had gone numb with cold and being hunched too tight into her nook.   
  
Instinctively, she mistrusted the voices, and froze into place. Yet they made no move to come any closer, and in the ensuing pause she realised the stupidity of what she was doing.   
  
Voices meant people. And people meant survivors.   
  
Maybe even people she knew.   
  
Invisible hands prodded her from her place, and she squeezed out from behind the stone lion with a creaking of bones and cracking of vertebrae. Blood rushed back into her extremities, and she stumbled down the steps even as feeling was still returning to her deadened limbs.   
  
She homed in on the voices, tracking them. They weren't too far away, but when she rounded the corner only a blank alleyway greeted her eyes.   
  
Was it another illusion then? Another trick her mind had played? She heard so many voices, it was difficult to tell sometimes. They talked incessantly at her when she was tired; shouting and crying and babbling words that made no sense to anyone but themselves. Sometimes her hands tingled as one of them fought against her; but she always won any fights that emerged, and the tingled stopped after a while.   
  
Turning dejectedly, she started to walk back. There was nobody here.   
  
She'd just reached the mouth of the alley when a dark shape darted out in front of her.   
  
She halted.   
  
Was that just a flicker her tired mind had created?   
  
No. There it was again. Elusive, but there, just out of her field of vision. She turned her head, widening her eyes to catch every speck of light this gloomy place had to offer.   
  
Movement. A slight shift, like a living shadow. She tensed, and tried to call to whatever it was, but all that came out was a strangled gurgle not unlike a dying groan.   
  
The murk rippled again, and a small figure slid from the darkness. It was slender and lithe, with a pair of shiny eyes watched her like a magpie.   
  
A cold shiver ran the length of her spine, and suddenly she found herself looking for a way to retreat. It was ridiculous and backward, but she was suddenly fearful of this strange, silent survivor.   
  
The figure came forward, moving as if with the shadows themselves. She took a step backwards and it stopped, cocking its head and scrutinising her. A long time ago she might've been embarrassed by her tattered and begrimed appearance, but she was past things like that now. At this moment only trepidation washed through her, and she edged sideways towards the other side of the alley mouth.   
  
A flicker, and another, taller shadow detached itself from the gloom there, effectively cutting off her exit. This one was close enough for her to see the reams of leather covering his body, and the face with one beady eye and one rolling white orb that glared with savage sightlessness at her. He was burly, and carried something coiled up in one ham-fist.   
  
She took a step back when another figure materialised and advanced towards her. This one was much more audacious than the other two, and stood virtually nose-to-nose before she even realised what was going on.   
  
Twin pools of cold green stared at her, and dark clouds of lank black hair fell either side of them, greasy, and in dire need of a wash.   
  
"Who're you?" demanded a husky, female voice. "Haven't seen you here before."   
  
"All gone," she said warily. "All gone." She spread her arms and repeated; "All gone. Gone, gone, all gone."   
  
A snort. "Another one lost its mind. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"   
  
"All gone - "   
  
"I know it's all gone," the woman snapped. "Everything's gone. The whole frikkin' city's gone. Don't need you to tell me, girlie. Been living here long enough to figure that one out for myself."   
  
"All... *gone*." Dejection. It was true then. Her eyes hadn't deceived her. "Gone..."   
  
The first, smallest figure crept forward, revealing a gaunt frame - also in leather - and strange Mohawk-like haircut, obviously done himself. "Hey, Audrey," he growled. "She loopy like the last one?"   
  
"Probably." Green-Eyes looked back and clicked her long, bony fingers. Her hands were wreathed in fingerless leather gloves. It seemed there was a running theme to their outfits. "You gonna talk? Where've you come from? What's your name?"   
  
"All gone," she said sadly, not looking up. "All gone. All gone. Gone. Gone, all gone, all gone. *Gone*."   
  
Green-Eyes sighed and twisted a finger close to her temple in the universal gesture of insanity by those more fortunate. "Round the twist. If she could talk, I bet she'd have some stories to tell. I mean, who in God's name walks around *this* place in their pyjamas?"   
  
"Someone dropping hints?" suggested Mohawk with a leering grin.   
  
The woman shook her head. "Nu-uh. She got scars on her head, see? Those've been stitched up recently, too. I think this one's been *made* loopy, not sent that way. Y'know, had some grey matter taken away?" She tapped her forehead for emphasis.   
  
"She no good then?"   
  
"Not for conversation, at any rate. I'm surprised she'd not drooling."   
  
The man with one eye stepped forward and spoke at last. His voice was booming, and seemed to have been dredged up from the soles of his feet. "Is she one of them?" he asked simply. "A mutant?"   
  
"Maybe," Green-Eyes looked warily at their find. "She *looks* normal."   
  
"Looks can be deceiving," One-Eye said sagely.   
  
"I *know* that Chug," Green-Eyes snapped. "We took care of enough of the freaks for me to work that out a long time ago."   
  
She tensed again, eyes roving their hard, scarred faces. These were warriors of some description. A gang, perhaps? She'd heard whispers of mutant hunters back at the lab from newbies brought in, those still able to remember the outside world. Supposedly, they hunted mutant survivors down and made sport out of killing them. Like foxhunting or bull-fighting in the times before things went bad.   
  
"G... ga -a... a... a... ng," she coughed.   
  
All three of them spun to face her.   
  
"What did you say?" demanded Green-Eyes. She was evidently their leader, or at least their spokesperson. "Is there a brain in their after all?"   
  
"G... an... nnn... g..." she grated again, slowly, as if it was hard to get out - which it was.   
  
"Gang?" Green-Eyes pursed her lips. "Yeah, we're a gang. The Vanguard, to be precise. What of it?"   
  
She retched a little, her tongue not practised anymore in the art of speech. "Mew... tan... m... ewt... ants... sssss."   
  
"Mutants!" Mohawk spat on the floor. "Freaks. We take care of 'em. Like pest control, geddit?"   
  
"K... kk... iiiiiii... kiii... lllll...."   
  
"Kill," Green-Eyes translated venomously, and added her own saliva to the pavement. "As soon as look at them. They're responsible for all this, y'know?" A leather-coated palm waved at the desolate city beyond the alley. "Freaks, the lot of them. Should be burned at birth."   
  
"We already done that," Mohawk laughed humourlessly. "Remember?"   
  
Green-Eyes clenched a fist. "Enjoyed every second of it, too."   
  
She watched them. This wasn't right. This was wrong - so wrong. Brief memories flitted back to her mind. Recollections of placards with stark black lettering, and insults thrown as freely as rotten fruit. 'Mutant scum', 'Are we safe?' 'Who will protect our children from this menace?' Voices sounded out inside her head, echoing the taunts that had forced Boss Lady to bring her here in the first place, to keep her protected from those kinds of people. From mutant haters.   
  
Mohawk jumped as the pyjama-clad girl suddenly fell to her knees with a wail. What little hair she had, she clawed at, and her face was set into an expression of fear and loathing so potent it made her appear positively gruesome.   
  
Green-Eyes dropped to her side. "You OK, kid?"   
  
A wordless cry answered, and the Vanguard leader reached forward to lay a hand on the strange girl's shoulder. She started rocking backwards and forwards, muttering something unintelligible with eyes wide like new moons.   
  
"I said, are you OK?" Green-Eyes cupped her face to pull it up so that she could look at her more easily, but a burning pain abruptly lanced through her fingertips, and her mind exploded with stars that vanished again as though caught in a riptide. "What the f - " she yelled, yanking away and reeling backwards in shock. "Holy fuck! It a stinkin' mutie!"   
  
The girl just stared blankly as a swarm of new memories and thoughts ploughed into her brain uninvited. They pounded and whirled against the sides of her skull.   
  
"Kill it!" shouted Mohawk, and lunged. He reached briefly to his waist, and something flashed metallic in the poor light.   
  
Her eyes shifted back into focus in a second. She dived sideways out of the way before she even realised what she was doing. Turning the throw into a deft roll, she sprang to her feet and spun to face her opponents with an skilfulness not her own.   
  
Again Mohawk sprang, but she feinted left and rammed into him with her shoulder. He grunted, and she took the opportunity to crack the back of his hand with her elbow. The jack-knife went clattering to the floor, closely followed by its groaning owner.   
  
There was little time to congratulate herself. Not as hasty as their comrade, Green-Eyes and the solemn One-Eye had regrouped at the end of the alley, blocking her exit and coming at her together instead of one at a time. They both held a long knife apiece. The Vanguards preferred blades to guns any day, and were excellent fighters, trackers and above all, killers. They could each pin down a man and break his neck before the member of any rival gang had even taken a step, making them the swiftest, most deadly of all Bayville mutant hunters.   
  
She squared off against them, drawing on the slew of combat knowledge suddenly hers from the unplanned contact with Green-Eyes. They came at her quickly, and she singled out the woman as an easier target than the hulking man.   
  
Big mistake.   
  
Green-eyes was small, yes, but by no means an easy target. She'd dashed forward and scored a hit down the mutant girl's exposed back in nano-seconds. It would've been a fatal blow, had it not been for the girl's reflexive leap away.   
  
Back down the enclosed alleyway.   
  
Mohawk rose and joined his gangmates in their advance. His jack-knife was gone, but he liberated another, equally sharp blade for each hand from the stash placed throughout his person. His eyes were hungry, and he dashed forward to strike again.   
  
As if on impulse she fell into a crouch and swung out her leg, neatly sweeping his from under him. He went down hard, skull connecting with the tarmac with a sickening crunch.   
  
As she arose, something suddenly stung her across her chest, and a loud crack rent the air. She backed off, but it came again, lashing her torso and left arm.   
  
One-Eye's face remained stoic as he unfurled the whip for another go, though his victim cried out as it cut her deeply.   
  
She backed off, but soon found her spine meeting the solid mass of bricks that made up the alley's dead end. It was cold and wet, and something oozed down the back of her shirt as her two attackers came in for another assault.   
  
Green-Eye's hands moved swiftly, and a small knife buried itself in the wall next to the girl's skull. A millimetre to the left and it would've impaled her head. In the event, all that struck her this time were loud curses issued from the older woman's mouth at her miss.   
  
It was enough. One-Eye had paused long enough for his gangmate to unleash her throw, and the whip lay dormant in his fist. The girl darted at him before he had chance to use it again, and surprised him by grabbing his hand tightly.   
  
He grunted, trying to shake her off. Then, suddenly, he felt very weak. His fist met her gut, but somehow the contact only served to worsen things, and he was slumped to the floor in an unconscious heap within seconds.   
  
She released him, breathing hard as yet more alien thoughts crowded her own, and she fought to dominate them, to keep her own personality at the top of the pile.   
  
{CRACK}   
  
Blinding pain surged through the back of her head, and she swung out blindly. Green-Eyes leapt away unharmed, and came back in to land another blow, this time hoping to break the freak's neck with the sheer force behind it.   
  
The girl rolled away, and the strike met only empty air. She was on her feet again in moments. Another opportunity wouldn't be so easy to present itself. Not now she had *two* sets of fighting knowledge to draw on.   
  
The pair of females circled each other, but Green-Eyes was careful to keep her prey away from the exit. Another blade slipped into place from where it had been strapped to her wrist, and the steel glinted in the poor light. The mutant girl had no such weapon, and kept her hands free to hold off any close-quarters attack.   
  
Green-Eyes didn't disappoint. One moment she was smiling a predatory grin, the next she was a blur as she dived in to stab at the girl's chest with a practised arm. The girl moved away, but not before a deep gash opened up in the forearm she'd raised to shield herself. She cried out in pain and One-Eye's stolen fury, but wasn't rash enough to try for a counter-attack without a weapon.   
  
Green-Eyes took the sound as a good sign and plunged into the fray again. This time, however, her swing was wild and unchecked, and the girl had no trouble blocking it without sustaining any injury. In fact, she even managed to twist her attacker's arm around and rap her knuckles so hard the knife fell into a flaccid grip where it couldn't do much damage very quickly. Then she thundered forward at the older woman, barrelling into her with one shoulder and knocking the blade away completely.   
  
She had the upper hand, but the Vanguard weren't top dog in the Bayville turf war for nothing. Face a mask of hatred for all Mutantkind, Green-Eyes put on a burst of strength and kicked out, catching the girl in the midriff and knocking the wind from her. A whoosh of air escaped her lungs, and the gang leader grabbed at the fabric of her collar with a knarled hand.   
  
{WHUMP}   
  
She had the girl pinned to the floor in approximately no seconds flat, and wasted no time in grabbing her wrists and pinning her with a knee to her throat. She struggled, but Green-Eyes increased the pressure, and her young eyes bugged slightly as her airway was cut off.  
  
She started losing the fight to take breath.   
  
Trying valiantly to get the other female off, she bunched up her knees and attempted to get the flats of her feet under the other's torso. But Green-Eyes recognised the move and sank down, closing the gap between her body and the mutant's so that any such action was impossible.   
  
Snarling, she leaned in close and growled into the girl's pale and besmirched face. "Stinking mutie! Your kind'll never win out over the likes of us." Hacking a gob of saliva back, she pursed her lips to spit it out onto the freak.   
  
The girl's mind was getting fuzzy through lack of oxygen, and dark spots danced across her vision. She watched as the Vanguard leader drew her head back, and let her survival instincts take over. They'd gotten her this far. She trusted them to get her that little bit further.   
  
As Green-Eyes bopped her head forward to release the gob of spit, she strained upwards at the last second and met her lips as they got just that little bit too close.   
  
Green-Eyes thrashed, and released her captive's wrists in shock as the girl's powers kicked in at the contact. Hands clamped around her skull, simultaneously pushing her off the girl's throat and snatching the energy right out of her skin until she felt weak and dizzy.   
  
Her fighting persona wouldn't let her give up so easily, though, and she pressed her knee down again.   
  
The hold around her head tightened, and the elder woman screamed into the mutant's mouth as her very soul seemed to be ripped from under her and drawn into the freak. She kicked and fought, but it was no use. Her grip slipped from under her, and she went whirling off into a melee of thoughts, emotions and feelings, all caught up in the immutable pull of this one mutant girl.   
  
Green-Eyes' body went limp, and at last the girl was able to let go.   
  
With every ounce of strength she could muster, she threw the empty shell away from her, and it crumpled lifelessly into a mound of leather and flesh by her side.   
  
Her breath came in quick, gulping gasps, and there was an iron band crushing the inside of her skull. She grappled at her head, writhing around in the dirt and sending up thick clouds of dust.   
  
Within, a new mind fought against her own. This one was stronger than all the rest combined. This was no mere shadow, but an essence so potent it was all she could do to hold tenuously onto her thoughts whilst beating it off. It pushed, trying to force her out of her own head, and she screamed with the effort of holding it at bay.   
  
Her cries echoed in the empty alley, and lasted for many minutes as she contended her inner battle.   
  
And then all was silent.   
  
It was over.   
  
She'd won.   
  
For now, at least.   
  
Air hitching in her bruised throat, the mutant girl stumbled to her cut and bleeding bare feet. Using the wall for support, she tottered to the mouth and exit like a frail old woman. She'd won the fight, but at what cost? The strange new consciousness bubbled just beneath her own. She could feel it. She could sense its anger and bewilderment at being transplanted into this new place, this new body.   
  
However, she could also sense something else. Something fleeting, like a soap bubble in warm air. She held onto it, a single image gleaned from this horrific new addition to her being. One of Green-Eyes' memories.  
  
A lurching bus, paint peeling and rusted through in places. It moved clunkily, lurching through the streets of Bayville like a noisy spectre of what it once was. Through the windows she saw faces. Some she recognised, some she didn't, but the thought that accompanied this memory told her all she needed to know.   
  
_Mutants!_   
  
Pausing to get both her breath and her bearings, she picked out the path the memory had taken. Black tyre tracks lined the tarmac like a signpost, and she followed them like a bloodhound on a scent.  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Reference to the comic version of Kurt's date with the waterfall. 


	10. Away

A/N - Just though I'd answer a few queries brought up in reviews, firstly.   
  
Ambrosia; Okay, I'll answer you first, since you asked the most questions. Hmm, why do I update so slowly? Well, basically because my computer and I fight. A lot. We have a longstanding contention that means sometimes it won't let me onto the Internet, and - more often - when it *does* give me access it flatly refuses to let me access sites I want. FF.net is its favourite. It enjoys torturing me. The reason for the length of time between Fragments 9 and 10, however, is because I've been holidaying in Belgium; which also involved being bitten to ribbons by mosquitoes and coming home with Measles. Do I know how to have a good time or what?  
  
Pertaining to other Evo characters, several *do* make appearances, but I'm not telling which, because... well... that would sort of defeat the object of your collective continued reading, wouldn't it? Magneto really was just the creepy quasi-villain who liked playing with paperclips at the ToT (time of tangent), so the whole freeing Pietro from his cell never happened. Pietro ended up in Bayville because Ororo came to fetch Evan so as to keep him safe from gangs at the Institute (talk about good intentions turning out bad!) and Pietro followed them just to spite him. He never met Magneto. As in, at all.   
  
Pietro and Mystique *do* have guilt over Todd's death in common, but they're still just uneasy allies at the moment, not true friends or anything. Mystique wants to make things right again with him (reasons for which shall be explained forthwith), but Pietro tolerates her because of Kurt, primarily. But Pietro and Mystique as parents? That's... more than a little disturbing. And far too much mental imagery I really didn't need. Ugh.   
  
Leading on from that, Mike; no, Kurt's not gay. He and Pietro are pseudo-brothers thanks to his sense of family and Pietro's need for comfort and an ally. I think this was explained a few chapters back when Pietro was talking to Kitty...  
  
Makura Koneko; yup, Rogue certainly got thrown in the shallow end of the dream pool (and on that note, I shall now say that I should never watch Disney movies while drinking caffeine, as it indelibly imprints random lines on my poor misused brain). But if you think she had it bad, you ain't seen nuthin' yet. As to whether there will be any other genres included here... angst *does* seem to wheedle its way into a lot of it, but there are happier scenes. Plus, this is me we're talking about. You know there's going to be chunks of fighting and action in there, too.   
  
Many thanks to anybody and everybody else who read, and especially to those who reviewed. It's so nice to know that people are actually reading this stuph, and I'm not just talking to myself a propos Real Life. Anybody asks me anything in a review; I'll do my best to address it here from now on. So, thank yous go to Yma (self promotion, much? ^_^), Sorrow Rain, Ambrosia, mike, Makura Koneko and Unknown Source. You people are the cooling fan on which I rely during this sodding heatwave. Danke Schon. I salute you and make up for lack-of-updates by posting two chapters today... provided my computer plays ball, of course.   
  
*******************  
  
Tenth Fragment ~ 'Away'  
  
*******************  
  
Trader Dan was a clever man. Sometimes, he marvelled in his own genius. He didn't trade in pots and pans or foodstuffs like the other traders. He traded people.   
  
People *always* needed other people, and there were just some folks that couldn't stand to live with others.   
  
In a time of crisis, he'd made himself an *industry*.   
  
First, he took in a bunch of girls and made a harem. Some were even experienced in that line of work. Heck, he even ran a halfway decent bawdyhouse in Trader Town. When a girl got pregnant, she moved to his ranch, where an experienced physician friend of his and other pregnant ladies would take care of her. She, in turn, would help take care of the pre-existing babies and other Moms-in-waiting for the rest of her term, plus a six-month 'rest' while she got back into shape.   
  
Any muties in the bunch would be carefully schooled up according to their abilities. A very clever man had devised a test for the X-gene that also gave the tester an idea of the testee's powers. And that was Trader Dan's best secret. He could take a mutie and teach 'em all about themselves before even *they* had an idea of what they could do. And when the power manifested, they were calm about it, sometimes even gleeful, and always, *always* in control.   
  
The norms were useful, too. They learned how to garden, cook, clean, read, write, do math, scavenge, sew, and tell stories. Girl children were automatically worth more than the boys.   
  
But muties were more valuable than anything.   
  
Sure, there was anti-mutant hatred going around, but Trader Dan was an expert in advertising. He sold Trader Town - and its subsequent customers - the idea of using muties for the benefit of mankind. And hell, the idea of slavery caught on if nothing else did.   
  
He tended to keep some of the more beautifully exotic for the bawdyhouse, and they almost *always* bred mutie babies for his ranch. And, thanks to his army of scavengers-in-training, he never had to want for clothing or food. And he always had plenty of things he could sell.   
  
Today it was Ariel, the water wizard. Trader Dan was loath to let the boy leave, but he had a baby sister now, with similar looks, and an identical indicator on her X-gene for an affinity with water, so he'd duly tattooed the boy and told him about the Big Wide World.   
  
Someone like Ariel was going to bring in the wealth. Some out there would sell their own soul for a creature that could draw clean water from dirty water. Hell, Ariel was so efficient, he could take water out of cured concrete[1]. That was damn valuable. So too were the baby chickens and kittens the ranch produced, but Trader Dan had found it was much more profitable to only carry one high-ticket item at a time.   
  
Ariel was properly clothed in garments he'd found himself from the wreck of the city. It was an interesting mix and showcased his ability to improvise. It also showcased his sewing, since some of the clothes had been artfully repaired.   
  
Ariel wore a zip-up turtleneck to cover and protect his gills, as well as keep himself warm. The tag of the zipper had been lost to some mishap, and replaced with a pull-tab from a tin can. His pants were serviceable denim, patched at the knee where their previous owner had ripped them, and his shoes were mismatched. One old army boot on the left, and a Doc Martin on the right. But that wasn't the real genius. The *real* genius was taking an ordinary backpack and turning it into a holdall-vest. He kept his tools in there, along with anything edible he scavenged, and maintained a different pocket for each need.   
  
Ariel was one talented kid. And Trader Dan hated to see him go, but there was a textile mill he had his eye on and certain things were needed in order to obtain it.   
  
Ariel touched his left cheek.   
  
"Don't bother it, son, it needs to bide a while."   
  
"But it itches, Trader Dan."   
  
"Of course it itches. You're healing. Let it bide or you'll blur it."   
  
Ariel's fingers flexed. In a minute, they'd be back up there.   
  
"Do some knitting," suggested Trader Dan. "Sweeten the deal with a show of your skills, eh?"   
  
"OK, Trader Dan." Ariel opened the big front pocket and took out some needles and yarn, and began to cast on. Busy fingers were useful fingers, and if anyone asked where he got the wool, he was smart enough to say he'd found it.   
  
Trader Dan's secret supply of sheep was going to remain just that. *Secret*.   
  
The horse, on the other hand, was hard to hide, but as far as Trader Town knew, he only had just the one. If they knew he'd been holding out on them there'd be a *riot*. Still, a horse was a useful thing to have when you traded as much as Trader Dan did; and one horse looked pretty much like another when you had a ready supply of black dye.   
  
The steady beat of the horse's hooves and the rattle of trade-items in the cart filled many a long hour in Trader Dan's life. As did the bang of the auction hammer.   
  
Ariel's tattoo, for the record, was a barcode. A reminder of times past when everything bought and sold had a barcode on it. Dan's mark was the same for everything he sold. An ASCII D.   
  
Trader Dan was here.   
  
*******************  
  
The Big Wide World was dark, much unlike Trader Dan's ranch. There were no plants, like the dead city, and the odd ruined building. Ariel's eyes skipped over abandoned items by the trail as his needles clicked busily.   
  
"So much trade," he whispered.   
  
"Folks abandoned a lot of things to the plague," said Trader Dan. "Some folks still won't touch 'em in case they could make 'em sick."   
  
"But the plague's gone," said Ariel. "They killed it, and half of nearly everything else."   
  
"Yupyup," said Trader Dan. "Some folks are just silly like that. Take the whole mutant thing. Some folks just hate 'em for no real good reason, not knowing that muties can be twice as useful as ordinary folk."   
  
Ariel smiled. That was him. Of course, he *could* extract the water from a *person* and kill them in a second, but he didn't. People were needed, because they had to rebuild.   
  
Trader Town began to rise above the horizon. A cobbled-together mess of buildings made from whatever the first traders could salvage. Well away from any cities and the types who preferred to live in them. Trader Town hired a lot of people to stop the gangs of scavengers and hunters from raiding or ruining it.   
  
Ariel had been in there exactly once before, when they needed extra hands to unload the bounty of chickens, kittens and food plantlings a few years ago. Someone had tried to run off with him, but he'd bought the man down and run for the safety of Trader Dan's cart.   
  
Now someone was going to buy him. Properly and legally, he'd belong to someone else.   
  
This was it. His big day.   
  
He hoped he'd be worth it.  
  
*******************  
  
"Two layin' hens, a bolt of cloth an' a dog!"   
  
"Three layin' hens an' a cookin' pot!"   
  
"Got me a ten-year-ole girl!"   
  
"Sorry, sir," the auctioneer said, "We don't accept people as trade. The bid stands at three laying hens and a cookpot for this fine brood sow. Her last litter was an even dozen, and all piglets lived. What am I bid?"   
  
"An apple tree!"   
  
The auctioneer smiled tightly. Those darn Goddess-worshippers. They always had to complicate things.   
  
"Five dogs, two cats an' a sack of clothes!"   
  
"How much in the sack, ma'am?" said the auctioneer.   
  
"Weighs five kilo."   
  
"The bidding stands at five dogs, two cats and five kilo of assorted clothing, with sack. Anything further?"   
  
No hands went up. "SOLD! To the lady with the sack. Thank you ma'am. Our next lot comes from the house of Trader Dan. Step up, my boy. Here we have a *lovely* young mutant, and as with all Trader Dan's finest merchandise, he can fend for himself. You might be wondering what, aside from these beautiful golden scales and appealing bronze hair, makes this boy so much more special than any other? Well, lad? What do you do?"   
  
"I manipulate water, sir," said Lot 47. "If someone could give me some dirtwater and a clean pot for a demonstration?"   
  
Everyone had some unclean water they took to the Purifiers. Sack Lady had an old cooler bottle full of greenish-brown liquid. The auctioneer offered the plastic drum he usually used for smaller items.   
  
Lot 47 held his hand over the dirtwater, which danced and swirled underneath. Then it leaped up into a ball of clear liquid, suspended above the other hand. Finally, the ball poured itself into the plastic drum, and all that was left in Sack Lady's cooler jug was dust.   
  
Lot 47 was only breathing a little hard.   
  
"A piglet!"   
  
"Two piglets!"   
  
"A breedin' sow! An' she's pregnant!"   
  
"That water, ten kilo of biomass, an' a mama cat!" said Sack Lady.   
  
"Two apple trees!"   
  
The audience gasped, facing the Devoted One in their midst. Two apple trees was a hard offer to beat.   
  
A fellow holding his left arm spoke up. "Three full bolts of cloth, four lady pigs, just full-grown, an' *five* cats - yearlings."   
  
Another gasp. Five yearling cats meant a fortune down the road. Ditto the female pigs.   
  
The Devoted One hung his head.   
  
The auctioneer hadn't even reached for his gavel, yet. He did so, now. "The bidding stands at three bolts of cloth, four unbred sows, and five yearling cats. Any further bids?"   
  
Silence. They were all staring at the man holding his arm.   
  
"SOLD! To the gentleman in the overalls."   
  
It was the highest anyone had bid for *anything*in a long time.  
  
*******************  
  
"Yew gotta name?"   
  
"Ariel."   
  
"Mph," said the man, and rubbed his arm. "Follow, boy."   
  
Ariel followed. "What am I to call you, sir?"   
  
"Yew don't call me nuthin'. I'm what'cha call an inter-mediary."   
  
"Intermediary," said Ariel.   
  
"Yup. I make my purchases an' sell 'em on to others. Got me a widespread empire." He winced. "Jesus, that's a bad one." He bought out a tiny bottle and shook out an equally tiny pill, which he put under his tongue. "I only breed pigs. Got no other use for 'em. Too much fat. Can't have fat no more. Bad heart. But there's plenty that's glad to have a pig. An' plenty more that'll pay other things for a boy with your talents."   
  
He led Ariel to a battered pickup, opened the door, and gestured for him to step up.   
  
Ariel did. "So who *do* I belong to?"   
  
"There's a gang in a city as needs water. They got everything else to keep 'em, but they have trouble with water. I might get a girl or two for you. And with a girl, you get *anything*."   
  
"Oh."   
  
The truck spluttered into life and lurched down the road.   
  
Ariel took in everything he could. "Does this gang like muties?"   
  
"Boy, after you show 'em what you can do they'll *love* you. Critter like you'll change their minds like a shot."   
  
Ariel took out his knitting. He got ten rows done before the intermediary spoke again.   
  
"Oh yeah. They'll love ya." He winced again. "Goddamn it." The truck slowed down.   
  
"Are we there?"   
  
"Nh... Naw. Need t' stop." He was holding his left arm again. "You get out and wait in th' park for me. I'll be out when I'm better."   
  
Ariel nodded once and walked out to the park that they'd stopped by. There was a set of swings. He sat, idly pushing himself back and forth between a sign that read, _Die, mutant scum!_ and a less permanent, _The Goddess loves us all_ in the dirt. Someone had shot the writer and left the corpse to tan in the sun. There was no sign of the Devoted One's plant cart.   
  
Ariel drew a small ball of water from a puddle and played with it, waiting.   
  
Sooner or later, something would happen.   
  
He would wait for it.   
  
*******************  
  
In his truck, the intermediary gasped his last breaths. _Jesus, God,_ he thought, _Let that kid have the motherborn sense to run while he can. Or let him find someone who'll care for him... Those fuckers'll kill him without me t' speak for 'im... Please, God. Please, Baby Jesus... pl--_   
  
And his chest felt like it was imploding, and he died.   
  
*******************  
  
The trader was a long time coming. Ariel bounced the water-ball off his knee, spun it on his finger, then licked it out of the air. He swallowed it and took up his knitting again.   
  
The road was deserted and silent, save for the steady hum of the truck's engine. It was hot, and Ariel had a tendency to dry out. Gills would do that to a person. He closed his eyes and sensed for available water.   
  
There was quite a bit in the Devoted One, but the young mutant didn't like to steal from bodies, alive or otherwise.   
  
Another source drew his attention. It was in the truck. Water jugs? Ariel concentrated on the shape of the water.   
  
"Gah!" His eyes flew open, and he toppled backwards off the swing. The water was the trader's body, and it was slumped across the dashboard.   
  
He scrambled up and raced to the truck, leaping halfway through the passenger's window and pressing his fingers against the man's neck.   
  
Warm, but no pulse.   
  
Ariel was washed with horrible feelings completely separate from the stabbing pain in his midriff. All his training deserted him at that moment, and he simply stared.   
  
Then he panicked. Surely a stray mutant would be arrested, or worse. He crawled through the window and tried to stuff everything, from scraps of paper to a ten-pound sack of potatoes, into his pockets. His mind took another desperate turn, and he quit that endeavour, trying instead to hide the body. Unfortunately, he was twelve years old, and the trader was nearly six feet.   
  
Abandoning the man facedown in the dust, Ariel ran back the way they had come, thought better of it, and turned around.   
  
That put him facing south, though his scrambled brains wouldn't notice that until later.  
  
Run run run run run run run run run. Ariel turned a corner at random and ran again. He'd be blamed for the death of the trader, this he knew in his soul. And there were people who didn't see muties as useful. They saw them as targets.   
  
He turned another corner. And another, and barrelled smack into a wall. He spent a few futile minutes trying to scrabble up its sheer surface and then crumpled to a halt. It was as if the smack had shaken his sense loose again, and he paused, swaying.  
  
_Think. Think. Trader Dan taught you lots of things. *Use* them._ Drawing a deep breath, Ariel extended his senses. Water. Yes. There was water here. A filthy toilet, trickling and dribbling.   
  
He sought it out, purifying it as fast as he could drink. When at last, he was fully hydrated again, he found a clean place in the light to sit and think and knit. Knitting always helped him to think better.  
  
He could eke out an existence on his own if needs be, scavenging for what he needed. But what he *really* needed to do was get ahead. And the people who got ahead traded.   
  
All he had to trade was himself, and his abilities.   
  
With that thought in mind, Ariel went looking for a backpack or barrow, and lots of clean containers. He was, after all, a mutant. And a mutant, kid or no, had a lot more to hand to help him survive than a normal human.  
  
*******************  
  
Seer tapped at the door and waited. There was no reply, and he hesitantly tapped again. No answer.   
  
Sighing to himself, the mutant turned to descend the front steps, but a reedy voice called him back.   
  
"Come in."   
  
He pushed open the door and peeked through. "Goddess?"   
  
A grunt, and the figure in the wheelchair shrugged her thin shoulders. Seer went gratefully in and shut the door behind him.   
  
"Yes, Seer?"   
  
He chewed his lip and wrung his hands a little before answering. "Goddess, I have something to tell you."   
  
"Then come to where I can see you," she replied, gesturing.   
  
Seer pipped and slunk to face the dark-skinned woman, penitence written across his features. "Goddess, I...." he rocked backwards on the balls of his feet, wondering how best to phrase this.   
  
Ororo gazed up at him blankly. "You had another vision, didn't you?" There was no emotion to her voice, since she was so weak it was a mere whisper. Yet a curious light danced in her eyes. "When?"   
  
"Last night, not a few hours ago," he answered, pointing out of the window at the rapidly rising sun. "I came to tell you first. Nobody else knows yet, not even my roommates."   
  
Ororo surveyed the gawky youth. Seer was the only other mutant in the Lands of New Hope, and the single other person who accepted that she wasn't a true deity. She got the feeling that everyone else *understood* she was really just a mortal like them, but somehow it was a notion they preferred not to sit with. Thus her elevated status. Seer called her Goddess sometimes because all the others did, but he knew it wasn't really true; and in days gone by she'd had long conversations with him about Mutantkind and other things that only he and she could talk about.   
  
His appearance was more than a little odd, which had led to the continued nickname of 'strange one' amongst some people, but he was a normal as they in all other aspects. They respected him almost as much as their Goddess *because* of his strangeness and abilities, but it was she they truly worshipped, and no other.   
  
Ororo took her hand from her forehead and regarded the teenager. She wagered he was about seventeen, if a little older, but couldn't verify it. Neither could he. The dunk in the river that had brought him here had also stolen his memory, along with his name and identity. He'd assumed the codename 'Seer' when she explained to him about where she came from and what she used to be, and refused to be known as anything but that. He'd carved himself a new place with her and her followers, and was content in the fact that he could care for her where others feared to tread.   
  
"It's probably best," Ororo said, shifting in her seat. "What form did it take this time? Visual? Aural - "   
  
"Aural," he put in. "Words again. I can remember them all, clear as day, too."   
  
"Can you repeat them for me? Maybe we can piece together what it means."   
  
Seer leaned back on his haunches and contemplated for a moment, recalling every exact detail about the vision that had struck him in slumber, lest it be important. His digigrade legs sagged a little, and he swished his long, powerful tail to maintain balance, expertly avoiding all the meagre possessions dotted about. He'd stood in this spot too many times now to be so clumsy.   
  
Clearing his throat, the leathery-skinned mutant said aloud;   
  
"Come not to rest on tainted black,   
  
Press on, press on O' wanderers bleak.   
  
Sadness and gloom prey at your back,   
  
Yet tarry forth to what you seek.   
  
Find one who drinks of air and stone,   
  
And one who beats no more,   
  
Upon his road, his feet have stilled,   
  
In lands of unkempt law.   
  
Take heed of one with hair of pale,   
  
His anger grieves souls gone;   
  
His actions shall bring sorrow more,   
  
'Ere old wounds heal anon.   
  
Beware of friend and foe alike,   
  
Press on with hands of blade,   
  
Keep children close, be on your way,   
  
Else goodbye shall be bade.   
  
Great bravery you all have shown,   
  
We ask a little more,   
  
Press on, my friends, and do not stop,   
  
Until the distant shore."   
  
He stopped, and scuffed his claws.   
  
Ororo blinked. "Is that it?"   
  
"That's it."   
  
"It doesn't make much sense, does it?"   
  
Seer smiled a toothy grin. "You noticed too, huh? I can't make head nor tail of it. Just like the others. But this one's a *lot* longer."   
  
"Indeed." Ororo stroked her chin. The other visions had all been brief, and the zealots had latched onto them almost immediately, scribing them down in the 'Goddess' Texts' and carrying them around whenever they left the Lands. No doubt they were spreading those bits and pieces of gobbledegook all around the lands they'd been sent at this very moment. And yet.....   
  
_And yet, he was right about Scott and Jean. Right down to the letter,_ she remembered, thinking about the scraps of vision that had portrayed the two X-Men's deaths so accurately. _She who heard all now is deaf, her wisdom echoes forever; and, peaceful warrior sees all in blood unshed, sleeps alone in city of black men. He even saw them, red hair, eye-lasers, everything._   
  
Seer had never met either Jean or Scott, and Ororo had been convinced after a while that his visions pointed to something else. Referred to other things that none of them could properly understand.   
  
The gargoyle-like mutant stood with hands clasped behind his back. He looked... guilty somehow.   
  
"There's something else, isn't there?"   
  
"Might be," he responded, tugging on his left ear as he always did when he was nervous. "But I don't really remember it properly, so it might be just a normal dream, not a vision at all."   
  
"Tell me anyway. It might be important."   
  
Seer sighed, and said; "Man who drove world apart, reunites in uneasy peace."   
  
"Man who..." Ororo frowned. "It doesn't fit with the rest of it, I'll give you that. What does it mean, I wonder?"   
  
"You don't know either, huh?" Seer's tail drooped a little, and his wings made a curious rustling sound as he readjusted the thick, leathery skin. "Sometimes I wonder if Im just mad, and these visions don't mean a thing at all."   
  
"You're not mad," Ororo said steadily. She'd seen mad folk, both the gibbering kind who's thrown themselves off bridges after the plague, and the quiet, unassuming sort who didn't even know they were insane until someone told them. She shivered inadvertently.   
  
"Cold?" He reached forward to tuck in the blanket one of the zealots had scrounged up before he left. It was patchwork, and obviously had been lovingly made by someone.   
  
She swatted him away. "I'm fine, just..." she sighed, "Just confused, is all. I'm convinced your visions *mean* something, Seer. I simply don't know *what* exactly. Could they be a prophecy? A portent of things to come?"   
  
"Could be," he said, thinking. "I was right about Gwennie's seedlings flowering when they did, and that Theodore's hoe would break - "   
  
"While he was leaning on it, I know," Ororo inserted. "That's why I'm worried. You know some of your visions haven't been exactly... pleasant. I'm just a bit anxious that they might mean something for one of our order."   
  
"You mean the visual one last week, don't you?" Seer said grimly, remembering. A sheet of flames as tall as the eye could see, and screaming somewhere within. A small figure bounding through on all fours, retching and called endlessly. A splash of water, and the screaming ended. Then a gunshot, and a makeshift cross of bleached bones tied with twine.   
  
"Yes," the weather witch coughed, and raised her hand to her mouth.   
  
"Are you OK?" Seer moved closer to her again, but she glared at him.   
  
"I'm fine," she hacked, though her frame juddered with every cough. "Just fine. We'll have to consider this problem later, Seer. It's morning light. I have work to attend to." Already the morning chorus was chanting outside, ready to come fetch her for her duties with the flourishing plants.   
  
The ridges above Seer's slitted yellow eyes raised, since he had no eyebrows to knit. "You know, this can't go on. You work yourself too hard."   
  
"I know," Ororo snapped, perhaps a little more waspishly than she meant to. "But I have to! Those plants *need* me, and I'm not going to let them down while there's still breath in my body. Too many people rely on that greenery for me to put myself first."   
  
Seer cringed, dipping the claws that marked the centre of his wings. The amber leather that was his face darkened a little under a blush, and he turned to go. "They rely on you just as much. I'll let myself out on the roof and go patrol. There were strangers with knives on the fringes yesterday. They left, but it's probably best to make sure they've stayed away."   
  
Ororo sighed as he left through the back door, and heard his claws digging into the brickwork on the other side of the wall as he clambered his way up to the eaves of the old abandoned house.   
  
"Goddess! Goddess, a new dawn awaits!" called another voice from the front door.  
  
Just a few more days of this. She could stand a few more days.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] True stuph. If there were concrete on the moon, astronauts would be mining it for the water. *That's* how dry it is, up there. 


	11. Ghost

*******************  
  
Eleventh Fragment ~ 'Ghost'  
  
*******************  
  
Elf was the first to wake. Logan wasn't surprised. He *was* vaguely surprised that he could sleep whilst hanging from the handrails, but it fit right in with the rest of him.   
  
"Morning," he said, and yawned. "Ach. Where are we?"   
  
Logan shrugged. "Been travellin' all night. Ain't seen no roadsigns. Either way, we gotta be out of New York State by now. 'Ro's clear on the other side of the country, an' this thing's *visible*."   
  
"There's a city nearby. Maybe it has an airport."   
  
"Planning to steal a *'plane*?" Logan boggled at him.   
  
"Nein, I'm planning to hide in a hangar," said Kurt. "There's not many places you can hide a double-decker bus, you know."   
  
Hope, who'd slept through the night and the noise of the bus, opened her eyes at the sound of voices. She blinked at them and then stared at the little mobile Pietro had made. In a moment or two, she'd realise she had an empty belly or a full diaper or both, and want her Mom.   
  
"You been plannin'," said Logan. "Never thought I'd see the day."   
  
"Hey, I always had plans. Just slightly nefarious ones." Elf smiled wistfully at distant times. "Ach... I miss them."   
  
"I know. Me too."   
  
And that was all that was said about it.   
  
They found a hangar to hide in, in the shadow of a rusting 747, and parked near a wing.   
  
Kitty awoke with a careful stretch and a massive yawn. "Are we there?"   
  
"Nein, Kätzchen. We're in a hangar. Hope's awake, but she's watching the world."   
  
"Where's Lance?"   
  
"He's asleep in the seat behind you. Let him rest, ja?"   
  
Lance, to prove Elf's point, snored.   
  
"Urgh," Kitty muttered. "I'm gonna be like, stuck here for*ever*."   
  
"I could help you out," offered the Elf.   
  
Logan was not inclined to stop him, or offer his assistance instead. The way things were going, every woman was going to have to have several husbands for a while. Best they get used to that idea on their own.   
  
"Just reach forward," said Kurt.   
  
Kitty did so, but the hand that grasped hers was *not* human. Even though she sort of expected it, she wasn't *really* expecting it. It was one thing to remember a picture. It was another to touch the reality.   
  
His fur was very soft, but it was the fingers that unnerved.   
  
"Sorry," he said, sensing that imperceptible flinch. "I can't help how I am."   
  
He sounded so ashamed. Kitty had to wonder what it was like to have the death of the world on her metaphorical shoulders. She decided then and there to forgive him everything, since his own guilt had doubtless done more to him than her hate ever would. And Logan had said it, too. It was stupid to fight any more.   
  
"It's OK," she said, and petted his hand. "At least I know *one* of you on touch. And your fur feels very nice. Like velvet."   
  
She felt him relax at that. "If you like, I can take you for a walk around the aeroplane..."   
  
"I'd, like, rather you took me for a walk to the bathroom." Heat filled her face. "I've been waiting half the night."   
  
"Ah. Pietro installed the porta-potty upstairs. I'll show you the way," he guided one hand to Hope's safety bubble. "There's your kleine Kind[1], and if you follow the edge, here, you find a pole, ja? And up there, a rail."   
  
Cold metal tubes met her fingertips, the same way warm, fuzzy flesh met the back of her hand. "Wow... Lance never does this for me. He just warns me about like, where to put my feet."   
  
"He does? How does he expect you to do anything for yourself?"   
  
"I'm blind. That's over."   
  
"Pffft! Far from it, liebchen," said Kurt, guiding her along the rail. "Here. At the second pole, feel down it, and - there - is Alvin's plant cart. The handle sticks out, see?"   
  
From about waist height at the pole, she felt the arms of the cart and followed it out to the handle, and she followed that to a metal wall.   
  
"Nearly there," said Kurt. "Feel the rivets along the way, and there's the door. Get your left hand on that side. Reach across with your right. There. Now you know where the door is. Feel down with your right hand. There's a handrail. Step up. Feel with the toe of your shoe where it is. *That's* the way. You're doing well."   
  
Kitty giggled, elated. "How do you like, know how to do these things?"   
  
"Margali Szardos - a woman in my tribe back home - was blind," he said simply. "She rarely used a stick, and if she was in someplace new, I was drafted to be her guide. I learned a lot about how to really help from her."   
  
Kitty was counting the steps. Five so far. Six. The rail was turning, and so did she. Seven. Eight. "I'm like, so glad you knew her," she said, and meant it. "I feel like I've been helpless for, like, ever. You've no idea how great I feel right now." Nine. Ten. Eleven. The rail stopped. Kitty felt up the wall and found a horizontal bar.   
  
"One more step up."   
  
Twelve. Kitty grinned. "OK, I can like, smell gasoline up here."   
  
"Just the jerry-cans in the back. The porta-potty's right in front of you. Just walk forward and feel it out."   
  
Kitty found its hard, plastic surface in two steps. Then she found the door by feel.   
  
"I'll be waiting in case you need a guide for the way back," said Kurt.   
  
"Thanks. If you don't mind, I'd like to try on my own?"   
  
She didn't need to see his smile; she could *feel* it in the air. "I was hoping you would."   
  
*******************  
  
Ariel worked tirelessly in the shadows of dawn. He had discovered containers nearby - a ruined building sporting abandoned barrels that had once contained something... something that was now tainted and foul. Ariel didn't mind. The substance was dust now, like everything else, and came clean with minimal effort.   
  
Finding moisture... that was the trick.   
  
He scouted, never straying far from the corpse. He didn't know why and didn't dwell on it. It was almost... natural... to make his base of operations near the trader. After all, he had once been exactly the kind of person Ariel would soon need to find.   
  
He wasn't afraid. Fear had ceased to be a factor. The first barrel of water - the substance of life - had smelled so sweetly in the tainted air... it was almost as a blessing. No-one would hurt him. Not even mutant hunters, not even for being near a human body. After all, water was life and he was water...   
  
Squeezing every drop that he could from whatever he could find, Ariel whistled while he worked. The sound vibrated through the arid surroundings, his mind flying on the wings of a random tune. Trader Dan had always told him not to whistle and he had never understood why. He still didn't - it was such a lovely way to pass the time.   
  
_Maybe,_ he thought, _I can get a good price for my services. Maybe they'll let me whistle if I make the water sweet..._ He paused just long enough to relish the thought. To whistle while you work.   
  
The sun loomed overhead now and he took a moment to make sure his work wasn't evaporating on him. He had many barrels now, more than he could count. At least ten. More than ten.   
  
There were people nearby. People... where had they come from? Could they smell the water, its cleanness through the dusty air?   
  
Ariel smiled. And he had thought he would have to go to them.   
  
*******************  
  
_Stinkin' muties._   
  
She hunted. The bus had stopped and the stinkin' muties were hiding, waiting for night. She couldn't see them, but she knew they were there... there, but too many. The Hunter waits for good odds. The Hunter will wait till she can kill all, not one or two.   
  
So she waited, eyes narrow, breath shallow. They were here... she could taste them in the air... tainting her air...   
  
A shadow! Blue? Wind... something in the wind... hair? White hair. Cold blue eyes. Fast.   
  
She shook her head and strangled a growl. Damn muties. The Hunter calmed. Damn muties would die. The Hunter could wait.   
  
A Hunter needs a weapon. A powerful weapon. Preferably to take them all out at once. The children... the Hunter wouldn't get to hear the children scream... but such was the price one paid for efficiency.   
  
Supplies. Dust. Broken homes, broken hearts. Ruins. Blood. A child's doll, staring out with lifeless black eyes... immortal. Dead.   
  
Why?   
  
Muties.   
  
What?   
  
Die. They must die.   
  
Friends?   
  
Wha - No. None.   
  
Todd.   
  
Mother.   
  
"No!" she whispered, feeling as if her eyes were burning. The smiles faded, the doll returned. Black eyes and beyond...   
  
Black pools.   
  
Oil.   
  
Her smile, devoid of any real emotion, would have made anyone shudder. She mouthed something.   
  
Weapon.   
  
Fire.   
  
*******************  
  
A woman, falsely aged, peered into one of the barrels. "Whar'd you get all this?" she asked suspiciously.   
  
"'E's a mutie!" A man grabbed Ariel's wrist, squeezing the muscles so the boy's fingers spread, showing the webbing between them.   
  
The woman backed away from the water, making hex signs. "Don' trust any of it," she warned the rest of the congregating mob.   
  
"Purest water in the world!" Ariel shouted over the hissing of the crowd. "Nothing but hydrogen and oxygen! Guaranteed no salt, dirt, bacteria, or toxins!"   
  
He stretched out his free arm and spun a down-pointing finger in a quick circle. The water in the barrels mirrored his motion, swirling gently clockwise.   
  
"Free gallon to the first person to try it!" he advertised.   
  
The people murmured and shifted. After a moment, a man with a walking stick came forward. "Ain't got nothin' to live fer on this world," he said. "Might 's well try it."   
  
The first man warily released the young mutant, who retrieved a gallon jug from his cart and filled it from the barrel nearest him.   
  
"To your health, sir," Ariel said as he offered the water.   
  
The man eyed the jug, sniffed the water, and drank some. "Praise be to the heavens!" he exclaimed. "That's the finest water I ever did find!"   
  
"Five dollars a gallon!" Ariel shouted as the crowd surged forward. "Free jugs as long as I've got!"   
  
Well, maybe he wouldn't have to sell himself after all.   
  
"Bring me your dirtwater and a clean container, and I'll purify it," he offered to the amazed crowd. "I can even suck water out of concrete. Watch."   
  
He held his hand over a piece of rubble and drew the water out of it. The concrete crumbled into its component elements. All he had was barely a mouthful, but the awe was thick in the air. He drank that much water out of the air and smiled.   
  
"All I ask is a little in trade - a little food, maybe some cooking implements? You'll never go thirsty again."   
  
"He's still a damn mutie," grumbled the woman.   
  
"Your pardon, ma'am, but I'm a *useful* mutie." Ariel bowed to her, then tapped his cheek underneath the tattoo. "Trader Dan's finest merchandise, at your service."   
  
"So where's your buyer, if you're a slave?"   
  
Ariel pointed to the pickup. "He told me to get out and wait. I think - maybe he knew he was dying... and sent me out on my own. I only found out when I was looking for water." He shuddered. "I *won't* take water from a person. It's wrong."   
  
A small child had come right up to him, unafraid. "You got odd eyes. One's green an' one's blue."   
  
"Yes," he said indulgently. "A normal birth defect. Having odd eyes doesn't make you a mutie."   
  
"Oh," said the kid. She had one brown eye and one grey one. "Rats."   
  
And Ariel had to laugh.  
  
*******************  
  
Kurt rested his forehead against a cool metal pole, listening to the sounds of the others as they woke and waiting for Kitty to finish in the john. Lance's snoring was a constant, and it barely wavered throughout.  
  
"Why have we stoppped here?" asked Alvin.  
  
Pietro, though awake, said nothing, eyes darting between Logan and Mystique and wavering whether to settled on anger, disgust, or fear.  
  
"You have a problem with here, bub?" Logan sniffed, staring out the front windshield at something apparently only he could see. He'd been outside to stretch his legs, but now sat right back where he'd been, claiming he didn't want to be too far from Daisy.  
  
"Here is gut," Kurt called, cutting off any potential conflict. "There would have been better. We should travel only at night, ja?"  
  
"This isn't the best place to hide," Pietro mumbled rebelliously, forgetting for a moment how good Logan's hearing was.   
  
"Didn't stop for the scenery, kid." He gave Kurt a significant look.   
  
The blue mutant sighed and hobbled up to the front to see what he was wanted for, careful not to disturb his sleeping mother and her two equally tired charges. He narrowed his eyes, wishing for the dark of night.   
  
Logan indicated with a nod of his head. There were smudges on the horizon. Moving smudges.   
  
"People?"   
  
"Yep," Logan answered shortly, as was and had always been his way. "A mob."   
  
"You think a mutant might be involved?"   
  
"Just a thought, Elf."   
  
They both heard the door upstairs creak open, sensitive hearing allowing them more access to the aural world than most. Shuffling footsteps moved slowly towards the stairs.   
  
"One," Kitty counted under her breath, "Two, three, four..."   
  
Kurt opened his eyes and followed quietly. Down the stairs, past Alvin's cart, up the aisle. Kitty counted seat-backs until she found Hope's baby bubble.   
  
"Wunderbar, Fraulein," Kurt grinned.   
  
Kitty's grin was ten times wider.   
  
A voice floated to them down the gangway. "Win... Winds..." Daisy squinted at the small print on the page.   
  
Alvin leaned over and scanned the line. "Ah," he lifted the book from her hands. "You found it!"   
  
"Found what?" Daisy looked up, grasping for the lost reading material.   
  
"Windswift's prophecy." Alvin's finger traced the letters. "The one I forgot."   
  
"So what's it say?" Pietro leaned over the back a chair, straining to look, yet unwilling to get any closer than necessary.  
  
"Windswift messenger man purifies world," Alvin read, "His hands are full of blue gold."   
  
Pietro inspected his palms. "Blue gold? What's that supposed to mean?"   
  
"Black gold is oil," Kurt mused.   
  
"Here's another one." Alvin read them the next line in the book. "Lady Luck meets Brother Time, precious moment ends in sorrow."   
  
They turned to look at the speedster, but he just spread his prophetic palms wide. "Got me."  
  
"Ja," said Kurt, a vaguely dubious edge to his voice. "He sure does."  
  
*******************  
  
She travelled back up the road to where she'd left the motorcycle. Cresting a ridge that kept her out of sight, she then slid to the vehicle she'd liberated from the Vanguard home base and knelt beside it.   
  
Those stinkin' muties were just up ahead in the old airfield. She'd seen them, and it made her blood boil. Yet there were too many for her to just wade in on her own. They'd take her down in a few seconds. No, she had to been clever about it. Take them by surprise - that was the way to do it.   
  
The motorcycle stood cooling by the side of the road. There was nobody around to steal it, though she pitied anybody who might have tried. The bike wasn't the only thing she'd retrieved from base, and she patted the array of knives located in various places about her person.   
  
But blades weren't her weapon of choice today.   
  
Suddenly she stopped, pausing mid-step and staring blankly into nothingness. Her green eyes became unfocused as she returned to the battle within.   
  
The consciousness known as Audrey squared off against the original owner of this body. The Vanguard leader was in no mood to fight for control right now. Not when she had such important things to do.   
  
_Stay back,_ she warned.   
  
The other presence refused to leave, and bubbled just beneath the surface. _You can't do this,_ it said. _This isn't why we followed them. This isn't right._   
  
_All's fair in war, darlin',_ Audrey replied, keeping herself firmly fixed in place.   
  
_Get out of my body!_   
  
_Hey, *you* put me in here, mutant. It's your fault we're sharing the same headspace. If it weren't for those others, I probably would've thrown myself off a bridge by now._   
  
_You'd die too if you did that._   
  
_Better than living as a fuckin' *mutant freak*,_ The body clenched a fist, demonstrating that she was most definitely still in control.   
  
_Leave them alone,_ the presence pleaded. _They haven't done anything._   
  
_They were born,_ Audrey answered coldly, and shoved the other speaker away with her mind alone. The body's owner cried out, but was too weak from their earlier battle to do much other than flap uselessly about.   
  
Audrey turned a deaf ear to the wailing, instead returning to the job at hand. She knelt beside the motorcycle and deposited the canister of oil she'd stolen from the hangar adjacent to the mutants.   
  
The situation wasn't perfect, she knew. The rest of the gang would never let her rejoin them like this. She'd have to become a rogue hunter now, travelling around and dispensing justice to Mutantkind wherever she found them. Audrey didn't care. All she wanted was to destroy mutants. That was the primary reason she'd suggested that the other presence take the bike, and waited for it to tire, recuperating herself so that she may take control of this body and keep it in her possession. It hadn't taken her long to work out that she was trapped in here, and she was adaptive enough to realise that her best course of action lay in taking over and using this form as she would her own.   
  
On impulse, she looked at her hand. The skin of this girl was pale - much paler than her own. Younger, too. She supposed the leather she'd also suggested be taken from the base highlighted it. Somehow, it made her more comfortable to be dressed in her own clothes, even if she wasn't dressed in her own flesh.   
  
Of course, there were a few memories that still lingered around. Recollections that weren't her own, but they hardly mattered. More than that, they gave her an edge of some of the mutants in the hangar.   
  
For instance, she knew that the blonde one had mastery over speed, and that the blue woman could change her form at will. Perhaps she should use this body's absorption powers to take that ability. That way, she could go back to looking like Audrey as well as thinking like it.   
  
Abruptly, she shook her head. Use a mutant's powers? It was disgusting, and she gave herself a good, sharp slap to the face that stung her back into more rational thought.   
  
The mutants had to die. All of them.   
  
She'd played with the idea of waiting until they were all asleep, but rejected it again. Most of them had slept while travelling. The man who'd been driving might, but the others she couldn't be sure about.   
  
A stray memory flashed across her mind's eye. That of a silver figure, smiling and talking as if she were his friend. He dashed off faster than any normal human could, and returned again in a nanosecond holding two hotdogs, one of which was offered forward.   
  
Audrey smiled. The fast one knew the original owner of this body *personally*.   
  
Suddenly she had a plan. The fast one had been a threat with his powers. He could rescue the others from a blaze faster than fire could strike at them. He was a liability. Maybe the others had similar abilities, but maybe not. He was the one she knew about. He had to be got rid of before she took care of the others. She had to get him alone and kill him, then go on and take care of the rest...   
  
And now she knew how to do it.   
  
With bait.   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro took care to walk normally in the daytime. It didn't do to be visibly mutant in a strange place. Kurt had decided to hare off investigating a mob, leaving Logan catnapping and anyone conscious in charge.   
  
Alvin was cooking something, which woke up Mystique.   
  
Pietro had decided to take a walk at that point. He couldn't stand being near her while she was awake.   
  
_We all have our sins, don't we?_ he thought. _I left Todd. I don't know where Wanda is... All I do is pick up after everyone's mess..._   
  
He found himself staring at his hands.   
  
_I'm supposed to hold blue gold? What the hell is blue gold?_   
  
"Howdy stranger," said a voice from his past.   
  
Pietro startled.   
  
The vision in leather was a shock, primarily because she was bone thin. And should have been dead. A ghost. A living, breathing ghost.  
  
The other shock was that she was armed to the teeth with knives. She didn't need weapons when she had her skin.   
  
His throat tightened, and when he spoke it was little more than a croak. But it was sufficient.   
  
"...Rogue?"   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Little child/baby. 


	12. Retrieval

A/N - Ambrosia; Why would Kurt call Kitty 'Miss'? Um, because he's polite and hasn't known her all that long? I don't know, actually. Well-mannered little Elf, ain't he?   
  
Unwillingness to go back and explore emotional relationships? Boy howdy, are you going to regret saying that. We have a whole bunch of Pietro vs. Mystique angst in this chapter, and from here on in the relationships and dynamics of this slipshod little exodus are what drive the whole narrative. The last chapter wasn't so much unwillingness, as prepping for the angst that's to come - drawing things out a little. Think how uninteresting it would've been to read if everything was just lumped together at once. Boom, there goes the character development, away into the sunset in a cloud of dust.   
  
'Still, if Magneto is insignificant in the scheme of this, then you're pretty much saying don't count on seeing any future cast members.' Am I? Don't bet on that. Some as-yet-unseen characters do turn up, just not in any incarnation you're familiar with. It's just not feasible to have everybody there, though. Unbelievable, too. And as for the ongoing debate about Magneto; all right, I'll concede the point that yes, Pietro *did* know Magneto pre-Evo timeline. The guy *is* his Dad, after all, and *did* perform all those augmentation experiments on his kiddiewinks when they were little, so it stands to reason that Pietro would have a passing knowledge of who Magneto is. My point was - and is - that Pietro hasn't seen his father in several years. Even though Mags turned up in Season One, he and Pietro never had any interaction before the ToT, so to the cast here, he's just a non-entity they never encountered. A nothing to them. That clear up where I was going with that?  
  
Mike; you're very welcome. I like getting reviews, as do the other authors.   
  
Tenshiamanda; you're right, they could do with a telepath or something. But isn't that always the way? You need something, and it's just not there...  
  
Many thanks to everyone who reviewed - Tears-of-Silver, Ambrosia, Mike, Tenshiamanda, Kentucky Fried Fetus (that's one hell of a pseudonym, by the way), and SorrowRain. Hope to hear from you again in relation to this chapter. Enjoy.   
  
*******************  
  
Twelfth Fragment ~ 'Retrieval'   
  
*******************  
  
{BAMF!}   
  
Kurt fell to the floor. "Ach, it's madness out there. There's people fighting over *water*. Can you believe it? An old man and his wife have a still and people are rioting for a drink from him..." He shook his head. "The sooner we're gone, the better."   
  
"Kurti!" Robyn leaped into his arms. "Are you okay? You don't 'port unless there's trouble."   
  
"I just hate mobs, Liebling. I'm all right." He held her close and soothed her fears, breathing in her familiar scent for a little reassurance of her safety; a habit of his since before she could remember.   
  
Daisy was standing uncertainly nearby, scuffing her scaly little feet and sniffing profusely. "Do I get a hug, too?" she mumbled after a moment.  
  
Kurt opened his arms. "Ja, Liebchen. I have enough arms for everyone."   
  
Daisy paused, surprised at the open tactility. Then she grinned and joined the impromptu cuddlefest, making up for lost time when nobody would touch her.   
  
*******************  
  
Rogue chose a knife with deliberate slowness, and watched it flash in the grey sunlight.   
  
Pietro took a step back. "Rogue?" he said again, a little less sure of himself this time.  
  
"You are a mutant," she growled. "You must die."   
  
"Hello? If you really are Rogue," Pietro said nervously, "then *you're* a mutant, too."   
  
"I am *not* a mutant!" she spat. "I am the Hunter! Already one and twenty muties have fallen by my blade." She coughed, and abruptly her voice changed. "Pietro... help... who's - Shut up!" she finished loudly. "Stinkin' mutie trash! As soon as I can, I'll kill you too!"   
  
The right hand, holding the knife, lifted.   
  
"Get away!" Rogue shouted. Her left hand clamped onto the opposite wrist, pushing it down. "I can't... bring someone, please! Help!"   
  
The right hand won the battle for control, and Rogue charged towards Pietro, weapon held high.   
  
Completely ignoring normal safety rules, Pietro turned and ran in the direction of the hangar.   
  
"Stupid mutie!" Audrey shouted. "You let him get away!" She jerked in the direction Pietro had gone, but Rogue was maintaining enough control to keep her feet rooted to the ground.   
  
"No," Rogue whimpered. "Leave them alone..."   
  
Her voice changed again. "That's it."   
  
The Audrey consciousness abandoned chasing Pietro and launched an all-out assault inside Rogue's mind, relentlessly beating down the mutant persona.   
  
*******************  
  
Mystique, in the form of a raven, flew swiftly across the decimated city, following Pietro as he led Kurt and Logan on foot. From her high vantage point she was the first to spot Rogue - who should have been dead, and looked as such - and swooped down, melting into her true shape before even fully landing.   
  
Rogue was just standing there, not moving and staring at nothing.   
  
The three men came up behind Mystique, taking in the same strange scene at a glance. For a moment, nobody could think what to say. It was all too surreal, and for an instant they each felt adrift from the shred of normalcy still afforded them by their broken world.  
  
Suddenly, Rogue snapped to life. "Mutie freaks!" she screamed, enraged. "Everywhere!" Raising the knife once more, she barrelled towards the weirdest-looking one - a demon in man's clothing.  
  
_Not the knife,_ Rogue thought weakly, desperately. _The skin. Please, the skin._  
  
"I will *not* use your freakish powers!" Audrey said out loud, startling those around her by talking to the other presence in her mind.   
  
And that acknowledgment was Rogue's key to the world.   
  
_Who are you?_ she whispered in their shared mind.   
  
"I am the Hunter!" Audrey declared. "It is my sworn duty to smite all mutants! And when they're all exterminated, I'll strike down this body I've been forced into, thereby killin' the last mutant."   
  
"Who?" Mystique pressed from outside, not sensing the inner turmoil that had sparked such a statement.   
  
"The one who calls herself 'Rogue'." Audrey had stopped, though her knife was still poised for an attack. "The one who... who trapped me in this damn body!"   
  
Rogue continued in the same quiet tone, sliding a little control into her muscles and guiding Audrey's hate-ridden limbs to her own purposes. _Touch him._   
  
Audrey advanced once more towards Kurt, empty left hand outstretched as if to grab his throat and choke the life out of him. Automatically, Kurt began to retreat.   
  
"Don't," Logan murmured. "The real Rogue wants this. She's foolin' the other persona."   
  
So Kurt stayed in place, but didn't need to fake fear as Rogue's bare hand met his neck.   
  
_Sorry,_ Rogue's awareness said as his mind flew into hers. _You have the most energy. I need you to help me fight Audrey..._   
  
There was a flash, like lightening. Kurt could feel his body falling down, yet he was watching it at the same time. Through Rogue's eyes. Two scenes, yet one and the same. The most bizarre experience of his short life.   
  
"Mutie! Stinkin' Mutie!"   
  
Kurt turned inside Rogue's MindScape[1] to face hatred that was as old as blood. It was strange, but he could feel himself just as he always could. Almost as though he still possessed his physical body. It was that which probably prevented him panicking at being absorbed so fully and completely. His identity was still his...  
  
"Ja," he said, testing the new lips of his mental form. "That's right. And you'll find me a harder fight than an underfed wisp of a girl who's half-mad from hunger."   
  
"I can take you on!" Audrey was a half-formed shadow, but she solidified before his eyes. Her face was a lot more sallow than he would've thought, her hair a dark shade of brown, and from each ear jangled an assortment of hoop earrings and gold crosses. She wore the same leather ensemble Rogue's body had on, and behind her green eyes blazed something dark and hateful. The shadows rippled around her like living tissue, and formed a knife in her hands.   
  
Kurt blinked. He had a cutlass that had definitely not been there before. It was hard and real to the touch, and he waved it experimentally above his head. "Ja?"   
  
Audrey's knife became crueller, designed to wound, and wound badly. The other hand held a nastier knife.   
  
Kurt abruptly had a foil in his tail and another cutlass in the other hand. "You're automatically outnumbered, Fraulein," he purred, brandishing all three. He felt a sudden twinge, like someone had turned on a light and ripped away a nearby shadow. But there was no time to dwell on the odd sensation. "Care to surrender?"   
  
In answer, the mental form of Audrey charged forward. She was deadly and swift, and sped low, swinging her knife around to rip Kurt's gut out from under him.   
  
{CLANG}   
  
The foil met her halfway, and she snarled as Kurt's face came close to hers.   
  
"Too slow, Fraulein," he said softly.   
  
The second knife whipped up faster than the eye could see. Audrey's normally green eyes burned with black hatred, and Kurt startled as it neatly sliced the foil in two.   
  
"Scheisse!" he swore, and 'ported away.   
  
He reappeared a few feet from where he'd been standing, and was momentarily surprised that bamfing was even possible here, let alone the curious feat of bamfing without collapsing. Yet there was little time for speculation as the shade of Audrey leapt forward again.   
  
Somehow, she was faster here than she could ever have been in real life. Even Pietro would've had trouble keeping up with her, and all Kurt made out was a blur of leather and metal before searing pain lanced through his side. He screamed, and on instinct his tail lashed out and caught Audrey across the face.   
  
She fell back, cursing loudly and leaving one of the knives embedded in the fleshy part of his hip. It had gone right through, and Kurt winced as blood began to ooze from the wound.   
  
"How is this happening?" he wondered aloud. "How can I feel pain here? This place is all in Rogue's mind."   
  
"That's exactly why it's real!" spat a lunging figure, and he 'ported away again. Audrey glared at him, and her hand began to ripple. "If I defeat her here then I'll be in control of this body *permanently*. But to do that," the hand reformed into something shiny and sharp, "I have to go through *you* first."   
  
Kurt's cutlasses suddenly didn't seem so threatening as he eyed the weapon Audrey now held with what was obviously a practised hand. It was a blade of some description, longer than a knife, yet broad. One side was smooth and deathly keen, the other serrated with tiny teeth like a shark. It looked heavy, but the Hunter twirled it effortlessly around her head, face set into a gruesome mask.   
  
Kurt waved his own weaponry around, including the stump of a foil, but he was no expert. He knew only a little of blade fighting. It had been a hobby for a while, but only as sport. The way Audrey handled her blades, it was clear this had never been a sport to her, and never would be. She fought with the intention to kill and no other.   
  
"Scheisse!"   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro dashed around in circles, too worried to keep still. Every now and again he paused and made as if to lay a hand on one of the two figures, but always jerked it away again at the last second and resumed encircling them.   
  
Logan sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes half-lidded but watching intently. Kurt was slumped a few feet away, tail flaccid as if in sleep. The mutant once known as Rogue stood with left hand still outstretched, motionless, her face blank. Her stare was unfocused, and the only movement either of them made was breathing.   
  
A small black cat slid up to Logan, and he broke his gaze as Mystique shifted back into her own body.   
  
"There's nobody about," she confirmed. "We're safe for the moment." She bit her lip and hesitantly asked, "Any change?"   
  
Logan shook his head.   
  
Mystique glanced at the silent tableau and felt the coppery tang of blood on her tongue as she bit her bottom lip again. Rogue looked so different. So... there weren't really words to describe her malnourished appearance, nor the ugly purple scars showing through too-short hair. She was much paler than the shapeshifter remembered, and her features had hardened - though whether from whatever ordeal she'd been through in the last four years or the influence of this creature called Audrey was unclear.   
  
"Siddown." Logan's voice jolted her from her ruminations. "This prob'ly won't end for a while. Might as well take the weight off."   
  
Mystique glanced at him, then back at Kurt and Rogue. Finally she sighed and sank down. Her eyes strayed to Pietro, who was at that moment knelt by Kurt and poking his shoulder. The elf didn't so much as stir.   
  
"What's going on?" she asked.   
  
Logan grunted. "From what I can tell, that girl's absorbed a mutant hunter from somewhere. Most likely thing is she got the elf in to duke it out where she couldn't. You heard her when she touched him. She needed extra energy. He had it. Most logical course of action."   
  
"I didn't mean that."   
  
He looked up at her. "Meaning?"   
  
Mystique sighed and dropped her gaze. "I meant what's going on with... everything." She waved a hand, encompassing all around them. "It's been so long. Why now? Why so many old ghosts now? It's been four years, Logan, and now suddenly so much is happening all at once. People returning - being found - revelations I would've thought impossible a few days ago. Why did all this choose *now* to happen?"   
  
Logan regarded her steadily for a moment. "Raven," he said, using her real name for the first time since she'd joined their little band of misfits and survivors. "Rogue was part of your team, wasn't she? I remember you bringin' her to Bayville 'round the same time 'Ro brought Porcupine in to take care of him. What happened to her? I heard you talkin' to Speedy on the bus. She disappeared, didn't she?"   
  
Mystique nodded, not meeting his eyes. Why not tell him? "Yes. Rogue was Brotherhood. She was - is... my daughter. Or as close as. I adopted her when she was very small, then gave her over to a friend when I had to move to Bayville. Then... when mutants went public... I just wanted her close to me, where I could protect her."  
  
Logan raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.  
  
Mystique went on. "It was... before the virus came. Anti-mutant mobs were still around, but we kept them off - Todd, Pietro, Rogue and I. We were... a family, of sorts. The closest any of us had ever been to one, at any rate." Her breath hitched, and she turned her face away. "I don't quite know where it all went wrong. One day Rogue went out and just... didn't come back. We - I - searched everywhere for her. She wasn't stupid, she knew not to stray far with new gangs popping up every day."   
  
"But you didn't find her," Logan surmised.   
  
She shook her head. "We tried. Honestly we did. That was how we became separated in the end. I just... couldn't accept that she was gone. I *wouldn't* accept that she was dead. So I kept looking. Every night I went out, but I never found her. Then one evening I came back to find our home wrecked - the boys gone. There was... there was blood, and I thought the worst. I wandered around aimlessly for a while, taking what form I needed to survive. I never went back to my Principal Darkholme persona. Too many bad memories. I did what I could to survive; joining different groups and factions that would take me in to get food and a place to stay. That was what I was doing when... when Todd..." She choked on the words, and Logan felt a sharp tug at his heartstrings as she gamely continued. "I didn't know that was what we were out for that night, and by the time I realised, it was too late. They'd already found him. There was nothing I could do, so I hid in their midst. I can still hear him," she tapped at the side of her head, "Screaming. Do you know what he said when they were beating him to death?" A tear slid down her nose and dripped off the end. "He called... he called for his mother. He wanted his Mom. And I didn't do anything. I didn't even... didn't even..." She trailed off, a sob wracking her throat and water blurring her eyes.   
  
She startled as an arm wrapped around her shoulders, and jerked her face up to blink into Logan's. The gruff man's expression was sad, somewhat reminiscent, and his dark eyes held a spark of pity she thought would never be hers after what she'd done. She didn't move away when he brought his other arm up and drew her into a comforting hug of the variety usually reserved for upset children. When he started stroking her hair she gave up trying to hold her emotions back, and finally let loose the torrent of guilt that had built inside of her in a flood of tears and hacking gulps. Four years worth of pent up culpability unleashed itself, and she clung to him like she was drowning.   
  
"Shhh," Logan whispered in an uncharacteristic show of sympathy. "It wasn't your fault, Blue. We all got demons in our past."   
  
"I left him all alone," she said brokenly. "I let him die right in front of me. He was so scared, and I watched as they beat him. He... he tried to get away, but they wouldn't let him..."   
  
"Shhh," he said again, understanding exactly what she was going through.   
  
Pietro skidded to a stop and stared at them. Neither adult took the slightest bit of notice. They were too wrapped up in each other and their own thoughts.   
  
Mystique was... crying?   
  
Pietro blinked. Mystique *never* cried. She was Boss Lady. She was tough.   
  
But she was weeping. Right there in front of him. Bawling her eyes out like a baby.   
  
Pietro shook his head. _Crocodile tears,_ he dismissed, and his expression turned cruel. _She's just trying to turn them. Get them on her side so that they won't throw her out. Looking after her own skin *as usual*. That's just her style._ Contempt filled him, and he opened his mouth to voice it.   
  
Logan's warning glance made him stop. Evidently, the bladed man believed her, and his eyes told as such. Pietro gaped openly, aghast at how easily she'd fooled him. Logan scowled a little, and then returned to comforting the juddering woman.   
  
Pietro glowered at him. _Fine! Be a sucker. Just don't expect me to join the happy party! She can't get around *me* so easy. I'll never forgive her for what she did, *never*!_   
  
In disgust, he sped away and went back to guarding Kurt and Rogue. Mystique may only be interested in herself, but *he* would make sure these two came back safe and sound.   
  
He stopped at Rogue and waved a hand in front of her face. She was as a statue, and he snatched the hand back, chewing his lip.   
  
_I just wish I knew what was going on in there._   
  
*******************  
  
{CHING}   
  
(CLANG CLANG}   
  
{CHING}   
  
Kurt was breathing hard, and he bounded back a few steps to manoeuvre his left cutlass around. Audrey easily parried the blow and brought her smaller knife up with the intention of plunging it into his unprotected chest.   
  
{BAMF}   
  
She snarled, swinging her arm around to loose it in a deadly blow instead. Kurt ducked, and the blade went skimming overhead, just barely clipping his tail-tip on the way past.   
  
"Missed!" he said, with far more frivolity than he felt. The look on Audrey's face was disturbing, and he couldn't help a shiver running the length of his spine as he watched her features contort into a fresh growl of hatred.   
  
"I'll kill you, mutant," she hissed. "Whether in this body or your own, you *will* die."   
  
"And you're doing a sterling job of it so far," he sing-songed.   
  
Audrey replied with another faster-than-fast run and stab, which he narrowly evaded by feinting left and darting away.   
  
Rogue's MindScape was black and fathomless. There was no floor or ceiling, no matter what his pattering feet told him, and everywhere he looked was just dark expanse that stretched further than even *his* excellent vision could make out. It was more than a little disconcerting, running with no idea where you're going, and even more so when you didn't even know if you were even *moving* or not. Certainly, the surroundings gave no indication he was actually in motion.   
  
Briefly, Kurt wondered what had happened to Rogue to make her this way. His own mind was filled with colours. When he thought they moved and shone - the Professor had told him so when questioned what it was like to be inside another's mind. Rogue's interior was blank. Stagnant. There was no movement, and definitely no colour anywhere in this bleak place. It was all gone - driven out by some force until there wasn't even a shred left.   
  
"What happened to you, Fraulein?"   
  
This wasn't the same girl Kurt had met a few times four years ago. She'd been a member of the Brotherhood then, but mutant tensions were high, so they'd been civil to each other. He'd assumed she was dead like so many others, but this terrible MindScape made him think that she'd been through something much, much worse than simple death.   
  
He skidded to a halt, glancing over his shoulder. Audrey was nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean she wasn't there. Hesitantly, Kurt looked at his cutlasses - the foil having been abandoned somewhere in the all-encompassing murk.   
  
He didn't understand how, but somehow he'd created these with the power of his mind. He hadn't thought them into existence, exactly; they'd just... appeared. Like a reflex action. The foil too - while it lasted anyway. Yet he couldn't do it again. He'd tried during the skirmish, but nothing seemed to work.   
  
"Were these a parting gift, Rogue?" he asked of the nothingness. "Are these your doing?"   
  
His only answer was silence. If Rogue had been helping him at the beginning, her presence had gone now.   
  
A low scrape suddenly sounded to his left, much quieter than a normal ear could hear. But Kurt's hearing wasn't normal, and he spun in a nanosecond. A flash of green and metal, and Audrey launched herself out of the darkness at his throat.   
  
Kurt fell back, dropping the cutlasses on instinct and reaching up with his hands instead. He grabbed her wrists tight and brought both feet up as one to connect with her stomach. A snatch of her face glowered hotly at him as the Vanguard spectre went flying. Audrey dropped into a roll, and almost as one they leapt up again.   
  
Kurt looked desperately around him. The cutlasses were gone. Vanished the moment he let them go. Audrey's weapons, however, were still very much in her possession. The side where she'd pierced him ached as he looked at the wickedly sharp metal, and his tridactyl hands clenched uselessly with the want to hold something with which to fend her off.   
  
_Kurt..._   
  
Kurt startled at the voiceless voice. It echoed around them noiselessly, and he looked for the source despite himself.   
  
Audrey saw her chance and took it. She kept low and snaked along the ground, coming up straight at the last possible second and taking Kurt completely by surprise. He held out an arm to shield himself, and howled as a deep gash opened up. Audrey scowled and tried to strike at him again, under said arm.   
  
{BAMF}   
  
Kurt pushed himself to the very limits of his abilities. In reality his furthest teleport could take him about two miles. Here - who knew? All he cared about was getting as far away from Audrey as possible so that he could regroup his thoughts without getting skewered in the process. He was more than grateful when he opened his eyes to find her nowhere in sight.   
  
The elf sank to his knees, holding a palm to his side. It came away bloody in a light that wasn't truly there. How he could see himself so clearly in such pitch darkness was yet another mystery he'd never unravel.   
  
_Kurt..._   
  
That voice again. Whispering and soft, it slunk into his ears like a fluttering moth. Kurt jumped up, ignoring the pain, and called out, "Who's there? Where are you?"   
  
Silence for a moment. Then; _Help me..._   
  
Kurt's brow knitted. There was only one person who'd say that in here. "Rogue?"   
  
_Help..._ it said again, weaker this time.   
  
"Rogue, where are you?" Kurt asked desperately. "I can't help you if I don't know where you are."   
  
_Trapped..._   
  
"You're trapped? Where? Can you give me a sign? Anything?"   
  
Nothing happened. The voice was gone, and Kurt's spectral shoulders slumped.   
  
Suddenly, a burst of brilliance erupted to his right, and his head jolted up as a line of flickering light traced along the floor that wasn't really there to his feet. It wavered, but stayed stretching off into the distance like a beacon.   
  
Or a trail.   
  
Setting his mouth into a grim line, Kurt followed it.   
  
He didn't know how long he walked. It felt like hours, but in a place like this there was little concept of time, just as there seemed to be no concept of space. He kept his gaze fixed to the line of light, worried it would vanish like the cutlasses if he so much as dared to look away.   
  
Gradually, he became aware that the darkness around him was lifting slightly. It lightened to grey around the edges of his vision, and soft, purring murmurs filtered through the gloom with every step he took. Unintelligible at first, they sharpened as he went on until he could clearly make out distinguishable sounds.   
  
A heavy door slamming, lock clicking into place.   
  
Buzzing, like a fan or some other such appliance.   
  
An engine, roaring into life and speeding away.   
  
Footsteps echoing along some unseen corridor.   
  
A curious squirting noise - brief, but somehow unsettling.   
  
The clink of metal against metal.   
  
Kurt's ears pricked at each, wondering what they portended. Were they memories? Did that mean he was getting closer to Rogue herself?   
  
Then came the voices.   
  
"Put her in here. Make sure she's secured properly."   
  
"The straps are tightened, Doctor. What should I do now?"   
  
"Shuddup in there, freaks! I'll feed ya when I'm good an' ready!"   
  
"I want my Mommy. Wanna go home to my Mommy!"   
  
"There's another one! Quick, grab her!"   
  
"Poke out his eye... poke out his eye... pop - there it goes. Woo, watch it fly..."   
  
"A small incision here, I think."   
  
"Doctor, the drug's wearing off!"   
  
"They're loose! Hurry! Bar all the exits!"   
  
"What the - AAAAARGH!"  
  
Each voice was different, and not one of them he recognised, but Kurt shivered all the same. They refused to go away, and as they got louder, the line he was following grew dimmer. He quickened his pace, as if that would help, but it flickered out and he was left staring at nothing.   
  
Finally, he lifted his eyes, and was amazed to see that the all-consuming blackness he'd come to expect was gone. Replaced instead by a scene he instantly recognised as the setting for various movies watched years ago on the Institute's TV.   
  
He was in a corridor. The walls, floor and ceiling were all made of metal that shone, and a single bulb suspended wanly above. It shuddered vaguely as something pounded above, presumably on the floor atop this one. There were no windows anywhere - nor doors either, for that matter.   
  
Having no other plan of action, Kurt continued along the route he'd been shown before the line went out. He padded along the corridor, new sounds echoing in his ears.   
  
A set of thick metallic doors rose up in the wall ahead and he went towards them. The only open one shut before he got there, and the lock clicked into place with a sound Kurt had heard before. He peered through the single, high pane of glass, but it was frosted and he could see nothing but a few dark blobs he assumed were people.   
  
Carrying on, Kurt came to the end of the stark hallway. The murmur of voices pervaded the air, and in panic he scaled the wall and clung to the ceiling, hoping against hope his wound wouldn't drip and give him away.   
  
A pair of white-coated figures passed obliviously beneath him, talking amiably.   
  
"...longest lasting of the bunch," one said. "Been here for about four years, give or take."   
  
"Really?" gasped the other. "How's that possible?"   
  
The first shrugged. "I think she's the Doctor's pet project. Won't let her be terminated until he gives the say-so..."   
  
They pattered out of earshot, and though Kurt strained he could hear no more of their illuminating conversation.   
  
Flipping adroitly to the floor, he glanced down each of the options now presenting him. To the left was another shiny passage rimmed with heavy metal doors that turned off at the end. To the right was similar, save for it finished in a door rather than a corner.   
  
Kurt chose the right. He didn't know why, but some inexorable force drew him that way, and he dutifully complied. There were still no people about, and he reached the door with its tiny frosted-glass window without mishap.   
  
Yet there he paused, uncertain. He knew in his heart of hearts that this place wasn't real, but something held him back for a moment. Was it... fear? Fear of what he'd find on the other side of this door, perhaps? He really had no idea where he was supposed to be, but had a niggling sensation deep in his gut that this was somewhere that *Rogue* had been before. A place of her memories, dredged up and created as... as what? A prison? This place had 'jail' stamped across it like a barcode. Could it be this was where her mind was being held captive by Audrey's wrath?   
  
The recollection of the Hunter's name made him to look around nervously. But he was still completely alone. A soft patter went by overhead, making the light-bulb dance, but that was all.   
  
He turned back to the door and, on impulse, reached for the handle.   
  
At once, a burst of images flooded his brain.   
  
There was a shopping bag clutched in one of his hands, and he swung it back and forth as he walked along the pavement. He was humming. Some tune he'd heard on the radio that morning and couldn't get out of his head. The words failed him, but the melody was nice enough, and it tripped lightly off his tongue as he took the shortcut through an alleyway back to the Boarding House. Momma had told him not to take this route, but he hadn't seen anybody around, and figured it was safe enough. Pietro would kill him if he wasn't back in time for dinner, and he couldn't exactly explain that he was late because he'd gone out to buy the speedster his birthday present. The pair of running shoes bumped together inside the shoebox, and he smiled to himself at the good choice of gift.   
  
Suddenly he couldn't breathe. Rough hands in gloves jutted as if from nowhere to clamp around his mouth and nose, and he struggled as he was dragged backwards into the shadows. He kicked and fought, but it was no use. Whoever held him was much stronger. If only they weren't wearing gloves!   
  
"This the one?" asked a gravelly voice.   
  
"Yeah," replied another. "Quick, settle her down and we'll put her in the van before anyone sees."   
  
A snort of derision. "Like anyone's gonna care 'bout a worthless mutie."   
  
"Be that as it may, orders is orders. Here, use this."   
  
The hand on his nose shifted, and something cold and damp pressed against his face. An acrid stench filled his nostrils, blurring his brain. He recognised it as chloroform just before he passed out.   
  
Another image. This time indoors. Metal walls and ceiling. He tried to back into the corner but found one of his ankles ensnared by an iron ring chained to the centre of the room. It cut into his skin, exposed by the wafer-thin pyjamas he was being forced to wear. They were revealing and far, far too dangerous. Didn't they know about his skin? Stupid question. They had to if they'd dressed him this way.   
  
A metal band encircled his throat, but he'd already learned that to touch it was to receive pain. He felt dull, skin and nerve-endings somehow dead and lifeless.   
  
The door creaked open. A figure in a labcoat hove into view. Waves of loathing washed over him, tinctured with fear so desperate it made him want to weep.   
  
"Why're y'all doin' this?"   
  
No answer. Instead the figure walked to the middle of the cold chamber and noted a few bits of scrawl down on a chart. Then it placed a tray of something on the floor and turned to go again.   
  
Kurt scrabbled foward, but the shackles didn't stretch, and he had to settle for calling, "Why? I ain't done nuthin' to you."   
  
A pause. "You were born."   
  
Suddenly the scenario was whipped away, and Kurt found himself strapped tightly to a gurney being wheeled... someplace. Someplace he didn't know. Faces wreathed in masks hovered above, and voices flitted back and forth like flies over dung. He felt drowsy, and by tilting his head he could see a drip inserted into his arm. The vein was bulbous and throbbing with whatever they were feeding into his bloodstream.   
  
His feet banged a set of doors open, and the trestle ground to a halt. Kurt groaned, but froze as a face loomed above him. It too was half covered by a white surgical mask, and he felt his eyes widened in horror as he saw plastic-gloved hands squirt some amber ichor from the long tip of a syringe. He didn't know what it was, but he knew it wasn't good. It couldn't be. Nothing they ever did to him here was good.   
  
His head was twisted to one side, and the syringe pricked his neck. It burned for a second, and he fell once more into an endless black pit.   
  
And then he was cowering back in his cell, feeling the lumpy stitches they'd left him with. His head hurt - his *mind* hurt. Whatever they'd done to him, it was agonising. 'All in the name of research', they'd said. It was what they always said, and he had yet to believe them. Personally, he thought they were all just a bunch of sadists. First chance he got, he was going to wring their necks - without either gloves or restraint collar on.   
  
A hand reached across. Pale, pale skin - nearly as pale as his own. Green, glowing rime encircled his shackles, and the world exploded.  
  
Running. Now he was running. Running like his life depended on it - which it would, if they caught him. He couldn't let them catch him. Not now. Not when he was so close to getting out. To being free. His bare feet thwacked the ground, which was uneven and stony. He'd already reached the outside world. He would *not* let them take him back. He'd waited to long and endured too much to have it snatched away now.   
  
Dark sky stretched above him, speckled with stars. It'd been so long since he'd seen the sky - starry or otherwise. He stumbled, and marvelled that there was a stone to stumble over instead of the smooth flat surfaces of the lab. Metal was no substitute for proper earth, and he resisted the urge to fall to his knees and kiss it simply for being there.   
  
Torchlight flared behind him, and the monotonous wailing of the siren reached a new pitch. But Kurt didn't care. They wouldn't take him back now. Not now he was free.   
  
Free!   
  
She was free. Free to go home to the south. The south? No, to Bayville. That was where her family was. That was where she'd find them. Faces swirled in her blurry mind - blonde, green, blue, fast, jump, Momma...  
  
She?   
  
Her?   
  
Him   
  
Kurt...  
  
Kurt gasped as he let go of the door handle, and stumbled backwards. The flurry of images faded as quickly as they'd begun, and his breathing slowed from the rapid sharp intakes of breath to which it had crescendoed. His heart thrummed the inside of his ribcage like it wanted to break out.   
  
All at once he realised several things, some of which made him nauseous, and some of which made him want to whoop with joy.   
  
No longer afraid, the elf straightened up to his full height and pushed open the ostensibly unyielding door. No flashes of foreign memory hit him this time, and it easily swung open.   
  
The room beyond was arrant and unforgiving. Bright white light glared down from the ceiling and reflected off the polished metal walls until it hurt to look. It was small, and devoid of objects or people, save one.   
  
A dejected figure sat in the centre of the space, legs drawn up and head pressed to the arm surrounding them. She sat motionless, not even bothering to look up when he entered. Her hair had been cut short, and from what he could see she wore a mutant restraint collar of the sort he'd always feared. Snapped around her ankle was a shackle that led to the floor. Yet most startling was her translucency. the harsh lines of the room were visible through her, albeit a little warped and distorted.   
  
Kurt stepped forward and knelt by her side. "Rogue," he said gently. She moved, and he tried again. "Rogue, it's time to leave."   
  
She raised her head and looked at him. "... I remember you..."   
  
Kurt smiled and nodded. "Jawohl, we met a couple of times in Bayville. Remember? My name's Kurt."   
  
Rogue's essence pressed a hand to her forehead, as if struggling to remember. "Bayville. Gone," she murmured. Kurt was forced to agree, and tears filled her eyes. "Everything's gone. Dead. All dead."   
  
"Not everything. Rogue, you have to leave now. There are people waiting for you on the outside. They want to see you."   
  
"People?"   
  
He bobbed his head. "Ja, Pietro's waiting. Do you remember him? Some of my friends are there too. Logan, Kitty, Alvin, my little Robyn. Nice folk. And... and Mother."   
  
"Mother..." she blinked. "My mother? Or yours?"   
  
"Ours," he replied with a warm smile. "I've come to fetch you, meine Schwester."   
  
Rogue's dark eyes rounded. "You're my... my brother?" Then she frowned again, expression troubled. "Dangerous... I remember... someone else... Hunter."   
  
"Ja, Rogue. That's why I'm here. I've come to help you get rid of her and take you home. Bitte, Rogue, you have to remember. We have to fight her together."   
  
Rogue looked confused and rubbed at her temples. "Can't think," she mumbled. "Head hurts. Too tired." She made as if to fall back into her knees, but Kurt caught her arm.   
  
"Nein, Rogue, you can't give up. If you give up, Audrey's won. She'll use your body for terrible things, Rogue. *Terrible* things. She'll... she'll hurt people with it. Rogue, I can't fight her alone. This is *your* MindScape. You can control it, but I can't. I need your help."   
  
"Audrey?" Rogue repeated, as if recalling the name. "Aud - " Suddenly her mouth dropped open in shock, and she cried out in a voice filled with warning. "Look out!"   
  
Kurt didn't even have time to turn around to see what she meant. He was, however, very aware of the wrench of agony in his chest, and the strange pointy object that came into view through the front of his shirt with a horrible wet ripping sound. A blinding pain made him gasp and hack, and a strange whistling noise slurped from somewhere around his chest region.   
  
The elf twisted his neck enough to see the triumphant face. Audrey smirked as she pulled the double-sided blade free, sending a splatter of red across the smooth metal tiles.   
  
"I told you, mutant. Either in this body or your own, you will die."   
  
Kurt coughed, and something tangy touched his tongue. It slithered from the corner of his mouth and dripped off his chin. His knees buckled, and he hit the floor hard with a sickening smack. His chest burned as he attempted to draw breath and failed miserably, more blood slinking past his lips.   
  
This wasn't real! This wasn't real!   
  
But it hurt. It hurt so much...   
  
"NO!"  
  
Kurt was vaguely aware of a shadow falling across him and the clinking of metal chain. Spots danced haphazardly across his sight, but he heard Audrey snarl back, "Stay down, mutant. Make this easier on yourself."   
  
"I won't!" Rogue spat, taking a step forward to stand protectively over Kurt's fallen shade. "I won't let ya hurt him. Y'ain'twelcome here, ya monster!"   
  
"Monster?" Audrey guffawed. "Look who's talking, *freak*."   
  
Rogue's eyes, erstwhile lustreless and dull, blazed with a new intensity that would've made even Kurt quail, could he see them. She calmly reached up and yanked off the restraint collar, which disintegrated into a thousand glittering pieces. Likewise, her shackles followed suit, and she walked forward unhindered.   
  
"Monster."   
  
Audrey readied herself, blade still dripping with Kurt's blood. "You couldn't hold me off before," she spat, "What makes you think now's gonna be any different?"   
  
At this, Rogue paused, and glanced over her withered shoulder. Her face set into a grim mask, and she didn't bother to answer. Audrey narrowed her eyes and created a small knife in her free hand. She threw it with deadly accuracy, and it flew through the air so fast it was a blur.   
  
{CHING}   
  
Rogue knocked it away with her bare hand. Audrey goggled, and then created another to throw. Much the same happened.   
  
"Ya can't stop me that easy," Rogue said in a calm voice. "I'm not as weak as before, and I know this place better'n you do."   
  
"What? The lab?" Audrey sneered.   
  
Rogue shook her head. "No. Mah mind."   
  
Abruptly, the floor beneath the Hunter began to melt. Audrey cried out and tried to leap clear, but silver tendrils grabbed her ankles and dragged her back down again. Rogue walked sedately, unhurriedly, speaking as she went. "I know how to control this place more than ya, Hunter. Ya used mah own memories against me before to force me down, but I won't let you trap me again. Here, *I'm* in control."   
  
She reached the edge of the metallic pool, where only Audrey's head, shoulders and right arm were now visible. "You can't get rid of me," Audrey yelled angrily. "*You* trapped me in here, remember? I'm here to stay - for keeps!"   
  
"I know. I don't intend to try getting' rid of ya. I know it's impossible. But I *can* trap ya in here, just like ya trapped me."   
  
Audrey's face fell open. "You can't! You can't keep me a prisoner in here forever!"   
  
"You were going to do it to me," Rogue said, tone devoid of any emotion.   
  
Audrey may have said more, but at that moment her face and all the rest of her mental form disappeared into the viscous gloop with a 'schloop'. Rogue wasted no time, and raised her hands to call up a mass of the stuff. It hovered before her, and she watched impassively as it formed and shaped itself into a barred cage, replete with key. Audrey glared out at her as she turned it, effectively locking her in.   
  
"You can't do this to me!" she screeched ineffectually.   
  
"Yes I can." Rogue extended her arms. "And I am."   
  
Her hands glowed red hot, and bolts of flame shot from her fingertips, melting the cage bars together until they formed a tight, impenetrable box. At once the fire vanished, and Rogue pursed her dark lips. Jets of icy cold air swathed the box, cooling the metal and sealing Audrey's presence within where she couldn't even be heard anymore.   
  
The box floated there for a moment, and then faded away, stored in the deepest recesses of Rogue's consciousness where the Hunter would hopefully never break free again.   
  
Then Rogue fell to her knees, utterly drained. Memories slowly returned to her, and in a few seconds she'd pieced together the entire events spanning four longs years of confinement in a mutant research lab. Ethereal tears streamed down her cheeks as things slotted back into place. It was painful to remember, but it was a good pain, borne of knowledge. She'd rather remember hurt than be in ignorance for the rest of her life.   
  
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, and scrambled back to the inert figure lying where she'd been bound in the prison of her own memories.   
  
"Kurt," she whispered weakly, shaking his arm. "Kurt!"   
  
The furry figure moved, but he was almost gone, and she looped her arms around him defensively.   
  
"Don't you dare die on me, bro. There's one last thing to do yet."   
  
*******************  
  
The three onlookers startled as Rogue let out a gurgling cry. Logan and Mystique leaped to their feet, but Pietro beat them to the punch.   
  
{VIP}   
  
"Rogue? Rogue!"   
  
She blinked, eyes refocusing on him. "Pi... Piet..." she murmured, and then fell to her knees. Pietro dropped beside her and clutched at her arm, but she shook him away. "No... have to... have to get... to him..."   
  
The trio looked on, amazed, as Rogue dragged her too-thin body over to the collapsed Kurt and placed a hand on his forehead. A faint glow flickered around her fingers, coalescing to the centre of her palm. Then she let it, and the rest of her, drop.   
  
Kurt's eyelids rippled, and he coughed as he started coming to.   
  
"I don't believe it," Mystique breathed. "How did she -"   
  
Pietro darted to Rogue's aid and cradled her spindly fame in his arms. "Rogue, are you OK? Rogue! *Rogue*!"   
  
Green slits hove into sight and a reedy, tired voice croaked, "S'alright, Speedy. I'm in control now. Not gonna... hurt no-one..."   
  
"Where's the Hunter?" Pietro asked, unable to keep the question in despite the smile spreading across his face at the sound of her familiar southern accent. "Rogue, what happened to the Hunter?"   
  
Her eyes drifted shut, but she whispered, "Audrey's... gone. Need to sleep, Pietro. Just... lemme... sleep... 'splain later..."   
  
As Rogue fell into much-needed slumber, Kurt opened his eyes and weakly lifted a hand to his hip. "'M okay," he mumbled.   
  
"What happened, Elf?" Logan demanded.   
  
"Mrr," Kurt ignored the question and pressed his hand to the pavement. "Help..."   
  
Mystique crouched beside her son and lifted him into a sitting position.   
  
"It's OK," he coughed. "Rogue took me into her mind to fight the Hunter - Audrey. I found Rogue, and she got control and locked Audrey away. I thought she'd killed me..." He rubbed his chest where the sword had poked through.   
  
"Stupid thing Stripes did," Logan nodded slowly, misunderstanding.   
  
"Nein - " Kurt paused to breathe. "Audrey. The Hunter. Used to be... Vanguard leader..." He smirked. "She stabbed me with her steely knives, but she just couldn't kill the beast. [2]"   
  
"What about her?" Pietro was still cradling Rogue.   
  
Kurt closed his eyes again "She'll be OK. Just needs rest. So do I..." He yawned, and Logan scooped him into his arms without another word. He was surprisingly gentle, and Kurt's tail dangled listlessly past hands that could so easily slice it clean off  
  
Pietro watched, and then shook his head with a weary sigh. "Home again, home again, jiggety jig..."  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Like a landscape, only way more surreal.  
  
[2] From _Hotel California_ The other line is "You can check out any time you want, but you can never leave." 


	13. Call of the Horizon

A/N - Makura Koneko; 'can you say update-fest?'   
  
Sure I can. Update-fest.  
  
*******************  
  
Thirteenth Fragment ~ 'Call of the Horizon'  
  
*******************  
  
Lance stretched as he woke. Mmmm... something smelled good. He rubbed his eyes and turned to face Kitty. "Morning, Kitty-Kat. Need help... upstairs?"   
  
She was gone. So was Hope. So was everyone.   
  
Well, except fuzzboy. He was bunked down across the back seat. Lazy freak. Pietro was next to him, and spared Lance the briefest of glances before going back to his silent vigil.   
  
Lance yawned, making his way outside. The speedster's stare was... disturbing. He followed the low conversation to a quasi-barbecue. Hope was asleep in her portable cot, and Kitty - Kitty was too close to the fire!   
  
"Kitty! Freeze, honey. I'll get you somewhere safe, OK?"   
  
Kitty turned to face his voice. "Lance Alvers, stop being such a goose," she chided. "I'm, like, learning how to cook."   
  
"But you'll burn yourself..."   
  
"I'm not a *total* dope. I *can* feel heat, you know."   
  
"But - "   
  
"I've *wanted* to learn how to do things for like, ever, Lance."   
  
"But - "   
  
Her forehead creased. "Aren't you proud?"   
  
He sighed. "Sure I am, Kitty-Kat. Real proud." If he couldn't look after her... what use was he?   
  
Then he noticed the sunbathing stranger on the deckchair.   
  
"Who the hell is she?"   
  
Kitty instantly knew to whom he was referring. "The new girl? Her name's Marie, but she really prefers 'Rogue'. I dunno why. She can borrow powers. She's just a little run down at the moment. And like, totally skinny. If Kurt was awake I think he'd be like, spoon-feeding her or something."   
  
Lance blinked. "The hell?" _Miss one lousy meeting and it all goes nuts..._   
  
Alvin began to explain. Once you filtered out the religious babble, he could spin a decent yarn. It *still* didn't make much sense when he was done, though.   
  
"So... we have another mouth to feed," Lance surmised when he could get a word in edgeways.  
  
"What?" Logan was nearby, feeding the fire with whatever safely flammable substances he'd been able to scrounge from in and around their immediate area. He spoke with a rare smile. "Don't ya like company, Rocky?"  
  
*******************  
  
Rogue grunted and slitted her eyes open. The harsh sunlight was far too bright, and they promptly shut again.   
  
She was sitting down, that much she knew. Had she been sitting down before? Things were a little fuzzy, but she remembered touching Kurt and then falling. She must have blacked out. In a way, she felt better knowing this. Having spent so long lost in her own mind, it was good to finally have clear memories and be able to think straight.   
  
However, the recollection also begged the question; where was she now?   
  
The smell of woodsmoke filtered into her nostrils, tangy and sharp. She snorted, and at once there was the burble of low voices nearby. Something warm and soft brushed her leather-clad leg, and she opened her eyes involuntarily to see what it was.   
  
A pair of huge brown irises stared back at her, visible just beyond the bulk of her knees. They were ringed with longer-than-long eyelashes and fawnish coloured fur, just slightly longer than Kurt's, and they blinked slowly at her.   
  
Rogue startled, jolting her body and then feeling its protests as old wounds from her run-in with the Vanguard back in Bayville made themselves known. The owner of the brown eyes scuttled backwards in fright, and though her own were narrowed in pain, Rogue could make out the form of a small, visibly mutant child.   
  
She cleared her throat. "Hello." Her voice was scratchy and weak, and it hurt to talk, but the kid looked so scared that it made her feel a little guilty.   
  
A pair of feline ears twitched forward. "Hello," replied a quavery voice. "Are... are you a mutant?"   
  
Rogue nodded. Not like she had to lie to someone who was so obviously also a mutant. No tricks there. "My name's Marie, but you can call me Rogue."   
  
Blink. "Why?"   
  
"I just like that name better, is all."   
  
"Oh." The child chewed her lip and glanced over her shoulder. "My name's Robyn. Why're you dressed like that?"   
  
Rogue looked down at herself and blushed. The leather Audrey had suggested she take was thick, but there were huge scoops of open flesh around the areas of her bosom and stomach - much more than she ever would have shown on her own. What covering she *did* wear was jotted with sharpened metal studs obviously designed to wound, and she could feel the telltale bulge of knives and other weaponry secreted about her being. A pair of spiked heels and a whip at her waist completed the dominatrix look, and she shuddered, both at what she must look like and the disconcerting notion that she knew exactly how to use the blades and whip to greatest effect on an opponent. Residual memories from Audrey, no doubt.   
  
"Long story," she sighed, shaking her head in a way that clearly stated she didn't want to talk about it. "Where am I?"   
  
"You don't know?" Robyn frowned. "Pie-Pie, Mommy and Mr. Logan brought you and Kurti back with them after they went out for their walk. They were carrying you, 'cause you were both asleep."   
  
Rogue squinted. Pie-Pie was a nickname Todd had invented for Pietro, and the fleeting memory of a certain Toad being chased around the Boarding House by an annoyed silver blur brought a smile to her lips. "Are they around? I'd... I'd like to say thank you to them. Especially Kurt."   
  
Robyn absently scratched behind her left ear. "Kurti's asleep in the bus, and Mr. Logan's teaching Kitty to cook on the fire. Lance is there too, and so is Mr. Alvin. I think Daisy's off with Mommy somewhere - she's my sister. They can't have gone far, 'cause Mr. Logan said not to stray in case we needed to move out quickly."   
  
"What about Pietro?"   
  
"In the bus with Kurti, I think. He's been waiting for him to wake up ever since you came back. He even said no to dinner because he was waiting for Kurti." She blinked again, eyes troubled. "I was a bit worried, but now that you're awake, Kurti should wake up soon too, and they can come and have some food before we have to leave."   
  
"Oh," Rogue nodded, and sank back in her chair.   
  
Robyn, apparently emboldened by the movement, crept a little closer, and Rogue saw a long, tufted tail snake out behind her. A thought suddenly occurred to the once-Goth girl, and she tilted her head up.   
  
"Where's Mystique? You mentioned a whole bunch of others, but not her. I know she's around. I saw her... earlier."   
  
Robyn stopped and pouted slightly. "Yes I did so tell you. I said she was off with Daisy somewhere. I can't fetch her, because I don't know where they've gone. I was in the bus with Pietro and Kurti when they left." Her expression turned sad.   
  
At this, Rogue's eyes widened. "*Mystique* is your *mother*?"   
  
"Well, sort of," Robyn answered shyly, and began twiddling with the tip of her tail. "She's only been mine and Daisy's Mommy for a little while though. Until last night on the bus she was my *cat*. But she's Kurti's Mommy, and Kurti's been my big brother since I can't remember when. So that makes her my Mommy, doesn't it?"   
  
Rogue tried to slot her jaw back into place from where it had fallen onto her chest. Four years of nobody, and now suddenly she was overburdened with family members - especially siblings. A brother and two sisters, all in the space of... how long was it? She peered up at the sky and saw that it was darkening rapidly, with flecks of starlight appearing here and there. It had been light when she fought Audrey - about midday, if she remembered correctly. God, how long had she been out of it?   
  
"Are you OK?"   
  
Rogue looked down again to see that Robyn had crept close enough to lay her hands on the side of the deckchair. "Yeah, just a little overwhelmed, is all. You see," she smirked, but not unkindly, "*I'm* Kurti's sister, too."   
  
"You *are*?" Robyn goggled. "So now I have *two* sisters, and *two* brothers. Wow."   
  
"Brothers?"   
  
"Yeah, Kurti and Pie-Pie. They're my big brothers. I... I don't know if they're Daisy's too. I'll have to ask them. Daisy says Mr. Logan's her Fairy Godfather, so if she shares him with me, maybe I'll share my brothers with her. That's fair, right?"   
  
The folks around here sure had some strange concepts of family.   
  
Rogue tried to lever herself up, but groaned and fell back, too weak to move just yet. Her stomach let out a hollow growl, and she winced.   
  
"You're hungry," Robyn stated, and stood on two legs to walk away, out of Rogue's field of vision. "I'll go get you something to eat and tell the others you're awake, Miss Rogue."   
  
"It's just Rogue - " but the cat-child was already gone and she found herself speaking to empty air.   
  
Rogue sank back, wondering if anybody else would come over to talk to her. She'd noticed Robyn listed off many people, and though she recognised some, there were others absent that made her gut sink. Not everybody had made it, then. It appeared the population of the Institute up on the hill had been decimated.   
  
But years of torture in the name of science had hardened her to such things more than she perhaps cared to realise, and it was with only a pang of regret that she looked once more at the sky and bid farewell to her old comrades and mutants she'd never really known that well. Stories of the X-Virus hadn't missed the lab, even if the plague itself had.   
  
She closed her eyes; grateful of the chair someone had been thoughtful enough to give her. In the old days she'd hated deckchairs with a vengeance, but right now it was the most comfortable spot in the universe, and she nodded her head forward with a happy sigh, tendrils of smoke and cooking smells sneaking into her nostrils and making her mouth water.   
  
Wait a second. Smoke?   
  
Rogue sat bolt upright and cried out as the wound in her arm split a little. She gritted her teeth and cast about for someone to summon over. They shouldn't be cooking with an open fire. Not here. Before going after Pietro, this was the place where Audrey had spread the oil!   
  
"Put that goddamn fire out!"   
  
"Rogue!" Mystique chided as she rounded the corner - curiously, minus Daisy. "*Language*!"   
  
Logan, at exactly the same time said, "Watch yer mouth, Stripes."   
  
But Rogue would not be silenced. "There's oil all around here! Ya gotta put the fire out!"   
  
"You mean the oil I smelled a mile off an' poured sand in?" Logan deadpanned.   
  
Rogue deflated. "Oh. Guess ya don' need me, then..."   
  
"Nonsense," soothed Mystique, coming up to the deckchair with an air of emotion kept in check only by self-will. Had they been alone, she probably would have just given up and sobbed onto her newly recovered daughter's shoulder, but, as it was she retained a little more decorum in front of others' eyes. "We need everyone we can get."   
  
"The people are comin' back," said Robyn with a broad smile. "An' we're gonna help a goddess fix the world."   
  
Rogue nodded, but she wasn't really listening to the little girl. Instead, she held her coat shut over her clothes. "Is there... um... anythin' in your supplies that'd fit? I don't like the idea of dressin' like her..."   
  
"Pie-Pie found somethin'," Robyn pointed at a pile of ladies' wear. "We've got underthings and everything. Even stuff for your... uh, what did he call it? Oh yeah, yah-yahs."   
  
Rogue went bright crimson, and Mystique stifled a laugh.   
  
"Uh. Thank you."  
  
*******************  
  
"...ow..." said Kurt. He immediately shifted so that more wounded portions of his anatomy weren't under pressure.   
  
"Awake at last. You took your sweet time."   
  
He sighed, unsqueezing his eyes. "Hullo Pietro."   
  
He was nibbling his lip so fast Kurt was half-convinced he was going to chew it right off. "Ican'ttellher, you'vegotta," Pietro gabbled fretfully.  
  
"...huh?"   
  
"Todd. Yougottatellher. I think - maybe she liked him."   
  
Kurt made a face. Rogue and *Todd*? Maybe in another world... Maybe in a different time... He sighed. "All right. But she probably knows anyway. She has my memories, now."   
  
Pietro exhaled, and though there was no smile, the gratefulness in his eyes was enough. "Thanks. I owe you. Big time."   
  
*******************  
  
Logan was teaching Kitty the counting method of cooking[1], but stopped abruptly. Mystique, after checking over Rogue, had taken some quiet time to stare out the hangar door at the horizon. She had the look of someone contemplating deep things and, considering what she'd said to him before, that wasn't necessarily a good thing.  
  
"Hey, God-Boy. You take over."   
  
"My name is Alvin, Blessed One."   
  
"Mine's Logan. When you use mine, I'll use yours."   
  
Alvin smiled and nodded, but he didn't say Logan's name. He joined Kitty at the cook-fire and instantly began praising her.   
  
Logan barely noticed. He was paying more attention to Mystique. Or was it Raven, now? He couldn't tell. He crossed the distance between them in a few strides, and caught the end of a sentence she'd been speaking to the empty air.  
  
"...of course it's going to take a while."   
  
"Talkin' to dead people?" He knew that story. A couple of hundred years or so was enough time to pick up a few ghouls and whatnot.   
  
She just nodded. "My ghosts follow me."   
  
He leaned on the opposite side of the doorway, arms folded nonchalantly. "Know the feelin'."   
  
She sighed. "Pietro's too young. Kurt's my son. Alvin? He's a norm. Todd's chosen you."   
  
"Me? What for?"   
  
"For a father. He wants a second chance at life. At love. At family."   
  
Logan sniffed. She smelled sad and lost and... unfertile. "Ain't the right time. And your condition's not all that hot, either. Ya gotta get back to your right weight or nuthin'll happen."   
  
Mystique spared him a sidelong glance. "Sometimes I forget exactly how old you are. You've seen everything."   
  
He shrugged. "Seen humanity get up and fall down. Watchin' it pick itself up again's gonna be interestin'."   
  
"We need more people," she said matter-of-factly. But there was something else to her tone. Something almost... pleading.  
  
Logan felt his chest tighten, and shook it off. "Ain't gonna happen when you're underweight, darlin'."   
  
She exhaled noisily. "Must you be so practical?"   
  
"I gotta. Only way to stay sane."   
  
Another sigh, but she nodded. She knew that, even though she'd been unable to practise it. "We can forage for extra food supplies," she persisted hopefully. "It... couldn't hurt, could it?" There it was again, that pleading note. It had a strange edge to it - desperate, almost.  
  
Logan just got up and walked away. Now was not the time to be thinking down that path. He had too many lives already depending on him to consider another just yet.  
  
Mystique watched him go, silent as the grave.   
  
*******************  
  
She was too damn thin, even with a dress that fit on. Kurt hobbled over on his callipers, wincing and trying to balance.  
  
"I brought you some soup. It's not too bad, or too rich."   
  
"Thanks," said Rogue with a small smile.   
  
He hunkered down, careful about his still-injured rear. "Feeling better?"   
  
"I'm a lot clearer now. I still got her in the back of my head, an' I'm scared she'll get out... but I know I can get better. It helps."   
  
Kurt nodded, and then sucked in a breath. Might as well bite the bullet. Putting it off wouldn't change the fact of the matter. "I... found Todd."   
  
She looked up, eyes hopeful. It was enough to make his heart break. "Here?"   
  
"No. In Bayville. The mobs..." Kurt wiped his face. His voice failed.   
  
"Oh." Rogue felt her face crumple. Even though her eyes were dry, her body was wracked with sobs. "Why *him*?" she managed after a moment, traitorous shoulders threatening to judder again and *squeeze* the tears from her eyes. "He never done nuthin' to nobody..."   
  
Carefully, Kurt wrapped her in a hug. "Ssshhhhh... at least it was quick, ja?" _Quicker than the virus, anyway._ "He might have been scared, but it was brief." Then he added the lie, "He never knew what hit him."   
  
It was a small, thin comfort, and hardly a mercy at all.   
  
*******************  
  
Daisy was playing with something next to the wheel of the bus. Robyn spotted her easily, despite the gloom of the hangar, and abandoned the warmth of the fire to patter over.   
  
"Whatcha doing?"   
  
Daisy looked up, pale eyes enormous as she tried to see through the shadows. Whatever else her mutations, night-vision wasn't one of them. The little lizard-girl held a finger to her lips and pointed to the ground just beneath the tyre of the double-decker.   
  
Curious, Robyn crouched down onto her hands and knees. "I don't see anything," she whispered, a little putout.   
  
Daisy leaned forward and joined her 'sister' in peering under the vehicle. "Darnit!" she exclaimed. "S'gone."   
  
"What's gone?" Robyn pestered, and sat up straight again. "What were you playing with?"   
  
Daisy looked about her warily. "Promise you won't tell nobody?"   
  
Robyn chewed her lip a little at that. Kurti had once told her it was wrong to keep secrets, just like it was wrong to tell lies. But her curiosity was piqued, and she nodded dumbly at the older girl. Though she didn't realise it, Robyn was fast becoming a sheep around the more-travelled and worldlier Daisy. She was more than a little in awe of her, owing to the fact she hadn't interacted with many children her own age in her short lifetime, and would probably have told her first lie if Daisy had ordered her to.   
  
"Good," Daisy replied. "My Pa always said he'd drown one if he ever saw it and use it fer cookin' meat. I heard them over there," she jerked a thumb back at the cluster near the fire, "Sayin' that we need to find more food soon, an' I don't wanna see him cooked an' eaten!"   
  
"See *who* cooked and eaten?" Robyn's soft eyes were wide, and she leaned in closer to hear Daisy's conspiratal whispers.   
  
"Purrei."   
  
"What?"   
  
Daisy sighed dramatically. "S'not 'what', it's *pardon*. Mr. Logan taught me that. Go on, say 'pardon', an' I'll tell ya."   
  
"Um... pardon?"   
  
"Good." Daisy hunkered down once more, and murmured, "A puppy."   
  
"A *puppy*!"   
  
"Shhh! Keep it down, will ya?" Daisy waggled a scaly hand and looked towards the fire. When nobody appeared to have heard them, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes, a puppy. I was playin' with him. Real nice he was, too. But he's run off now." She looked sad.   
  
Robyn pursed her lips in thought. "I could try smelling for him, if you like," she offered. "Kurti says I have a real good nose, and I used to smell the mice and rats out all the time in our old home."   
  
Immediately, Daisy's reptilian eyes brightened. "D'ya think you could?"   
  
"I can try."   
  
She crouched down again, closed her eyes and sniffed. A myriad of smells met her sensitive nostrils, some of which she recognised, others that were completely foreign and new. Over them all pervaded the aroma of grease and petrol; laced with dust and age from the floor itself. Robyn inhaled deeply; trying to filter out the scents she recognised in favour of those she didn't, and delicately picked to pieces everything else after the distinctive smell of dog. She knew what canines smelled like. They used to roam Bayville freely when she was little, and their scent was so unique she hadn't forgotten it, even after the gangs and desperate survivors had killed the last of them.   
  
"You smell him yet?" Daisy's disembodied voice flitted into her ear, and she twitched them back, concentration broken.   
  
"Give me a minute."   
  
"I've given you a minute, now do you smell Clive yet?"   
  
At this, Robyn opened her eyes, though she didn't raise herself up. "Clive?"   
  
"Um, yeah. That's what I've decided to call him."   
  
"Call who?" said a voice.  
  
Robyn jerked in surprise and banged her head sharply on the underside of the bus. She fell out from under it, clutching at her ear and blinking profusely.   
  
Pietro knelt down before her. "You OK, Robyn? Hit yourself?" She nodded, rubbing at the sore spot. Pietro checked for damages, but found none. "What were you doing under there, anyway?" he asked. "Little girls shouldn't be messing around underneath buses."   
  
Daisy, who had sprung to her feet, now scuffed them, sending up clouds of dust that danced haphazardly on the air. "Just playin'," she mumbled. "We was just playin' around."   
  
Pietro shot her a curious look, but didn't question her further. Instead, he told them; "Well, Alvin says the food's ready now, so you're both to quit playing and come eat."   
  
"Food?" Daisy practically salivated, and ran off whooping before he could say another word.   
  
Robyn continued rubbing at her sore patch, and followed at a more sedate pace and clutching onto Pietro's hand. "Pie-Pie," she said after a few moments.   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"Guess what?"   
  
"What?"   
  
She sucked in a lungful of air through her sharp little canines. "Well, for one thing, it's not 'what', it's 'pardon'. And for another, I found out that Miss Rogue is Kurti's sister, and she says she'd gonna be *my* sister too. I guess she can be Daisy's sister, but d'ya think that means Mr. Logan's gonna be my Fairy Godfather, just like he is Daisy's?"   
  
Pietro blinked under the barrage of information. "I... uh. I guess." _Rogue is Kurt's sister? Suppose I should've seen that one coming._   
  
Robyn smiled and rested her cheek against the back of his hand. "Don't worry, Pie-Pie, I'm sure Mr. Logan can be *your* Fairy Godfather too. After all, you're my big brother."   
  
Am image of Logan in tights and a pink tutu whilst doing a Marlon Brando impression flickered through Pietro's mind, and he suppressed a snicker.   
  
Neither one of them noticed the pair of soulful brown eyes peeping out from behind the bus wheel, nor heard the quiet whine that accompanied them.  
  
*******************  
  
"The more I think about it," said Lance over their meal. "The less I like those fuel cans upstairs. Can we swap 'em for the junk in the jeep?"   
  
"It's not junk," said Kurt a trifle defensively, "it's Forge's legacy. One of those gizmos is bound to be some good. He was working on something newish right up until - " He stopped, and shook his head. "All I know is that it's in there somewhere."   
  
"What is?"  
  
"Ororo's cure, of course."  
  
"Either way, it's safer to have upstairs than all that gas," Lance argued. "It isn't right. And the fumes might affect Kitty. Or Hope."   
  
"Hey, I don't mind," said Pietro. "Gives me something to do. I mean, besides seeing if airline food is the Twinkie of today. Or scavenging for stuff."   
  
"I thought you *liked* scavenging," said Kitty, rearranging Baby Hope at her breast.   
  
Pietro shook his head, eyes darting out of the door. "Not in *this* 'burg. People are fighting over clean water and selling their kids for *dogs*. It's getting ugly out there."   
  
"Ja. Nicht we weg[2]..." Kurt muttered. "We're lucky we have supplies to last a while. If we find somewhere more civilised than here, maybe we can trade or something."   
  
"Maybe those of us who can *pass* can trade," said Mystique judiciously. "There's still a large anti-mutant sentiment amongst the norms out there."   
  
Kurt sighed, staring into his bowl and tracing the contents with his eyes. "Norms and muties. Muties and norms. Is there anywhere where it's just 'people'."   
  
"The Goddess welcomes all into her paradise," Alvin reeled off.   
  
Kurt raised a brow. "Ja? How many muties are there?"   
  
"Including the Goddess? Two." Alvin blushed. "There's a trading town nearby where they - *sell* - the Blessed Ones. We try to buy their freedom, but... our resources are few. We haven't won a single bid, yet."   
  
The effect on Kurt was electric. "THEY *SELL* PEOPLE?!" he roared, then followed his outburst by a string of curses in all the languages he knew. Which was quite a few.  
  
Robyn plugged her ears, and Daisy followed her lead.   
  
Hope woke up and cried.   
  
"Someone," Kurt muttered once the air was a nice shade of cerulean, "is going to *pay* for this - this - ARGH! *Selling* people! How *can* they?"   
  
"People are goin' backwards, Elf," said Logan calmly, hovering up his food like they were talking about the weather. "Slavery's one of the nasty things we left behind 'cause we could afford to. Now we can't, it's back."   
  
"Doesn't it bother you? Ach, I knew we should've stolen a pig," Kurt griped. "Maybe two. That's how the Pig Brothers lived so long. Trading for bacon. You can get a lot for a pig..."   
  
"People are worth more than animals, Elf."   
  
"...Rrrrrrrr..."   
  
"Don't you start growlin' at me 'cause you don't like the truth."   
  
"I'm not growling at you, I'm growling at the world."   
  
Daisy lifted one hand from her ear. "Have ya stopped cussin' yet?"   
  
Kurt nodded, and his chest deflated like a popped balloon as his anger was abruptly replaced by a milder form of despair at the universe. "Ja. I'm safe, now."   
  
"Can I be excused?" Robyn asked politely. "I wanna go play for a while."   
  
"Ja... ja, go play. Just play safe, ne?"   
  
"Uh-huh." She snagged Daisy on her way away from the fire. Soon, they were hanging around the rear of the bus, playing the oldest girl game in the world near the wheel - whisper and giggle.   
  
Kurt sighed, watching them in the gloom. He took his bowl with him and went to stand by the hangar door, staring much like his mother had done not so long ago. Nobody made any move to stop him, but Rogue watched him go, then excused herself for a moment to follow.  
  
"What's up?" she asked once she was close enough, sounding for all the world like a normal young woman without a murderous mutant hunter living in her head. Her physical appearance said she was twenty, but her manner of speech was still stuck in the rut of sixteen - the last time she'd been a free person.  
  
Kurt shook his head. "It's times like this I miss meine Schwesters in Germany - my adoptive family..." He went back to eating, still standing up, eyes fixed on the horizon. "I don't even know if they survived."   
  
Rogue's brows met, and she reached for his hand. He didn't pull away, and the gloves she'd found in the pile of cast-offs made a shushing sound as she rubbed his thumb with her own. She had no words to offer, but somehow... it didn't matter.   
  
*******************  
  
By sunset, Ariel had emptied his barrels and netted 200-something dollars without even changing location. Not bad for his first day of independent business.   
  
Now for a place to spend the night. He'd filled his barrels mostly from the river running through the city of Reno, Nevada, but that was too dirty to sleep in.   
  
_Don't get anything done by sitting around,_ he reasoned, and pushed his barrow through the quiet streets. Hardly anyone respectable dared to go out after sundown, which was why a good hiding place was of utmost importance.   
  
He didn't get far before realising just how tired he was, both mentally and physically. He set down his cart and sat on a manhole cover, taking off his heavy vest and laying it beside him.   
  
Unbidden by his conscious mind, a tube of water snaked out of the storm drain behind him. It assumed the form of a small dragon and curled around behind the elemental mutant. The water-being nudged its master's shoulder, calling his attention to what he had created. It then pointed its nose towards a nearby building from which a steady dripping could be heard.   
  
Ariel rose, picked up his vest, and walked towards the building, dragon floating close behind. It passed him just beyond the doorway and led the way down a staircase. When his eyes adjusted, he saw the dim light reflecting off the surface of calm water, which rippled as the dragon rejoined its kith and kin.   
  
A flooded basement seemed safe enough. Ariel ascended the stairs and picked up a wooden chair. As he undressed, he hung his clothes neatly. He then tromped back downstairs and dived gracefully into the water. He floated in the dark, gills flapping gently, and slept the sleep of the free.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] You count a certain way, for a certain length of time, and that's when you know it's browned just right.  
  
[2] Better off gone. 


	14. Splintered Notions

A/N - Ambrosia; I never meant to offend anyone, so I'm sorry if I have. I apologise if I ever seemed... scary. I just answer questions to the best of my abilities. I'll admit, I have a tendency to be overdramatic, but that's only because I'm usually looking forward to answering any queries with the fic itself and what's to come. If I came across as anything else then I apologise once again. Please, ask your questions and make yours comments, whatever they may be. If I ever sound like I've got a bug up my butt... well, I didn't mean to.   
  
Thanks go to everyone else who also reviewed last time; Krazy Xanadu, Unknown Source (thanks for the reviews of my other works, too. Much appreciated ^_^), tenshiamanda, Nemati and Alliriyan (off to read Forest Demon right now). And for those of you who wondered about Wanda... well, this chapter's for you.  
  
Can I please ask for people to go review one of my other fics, called 'Running In The Family'? 'Tis Pietro-centric, and has a grand total of one review. *Sniff*. Also, I just completely revamped my bio, and I think it now ranks as one of the longest on all FF.net. Just thought I'd share that with you...  
  
*******************  
  
Fourteenth Fragment ~ 'Splintered Notions'  
  
*******************  
  
Lady Luck danced in the wasteland.   
  
Or rather, Wanda Maximoff stumbled rhythmically.   
  
She was dressed in mismatched rags; some were recognisable as hospital garb, others were more obscure. They had all been stripped off the carcasses of various corpses, and were streaked with blood and less identifiable substances.   
  
She threw her head back and let out another peal of crazy laugher. She was Free. Free! The word was silk and satin on her tongue, delicious, delectable - rare.   
  
She hadn't been free since her 'family' had abandoned her. Left her in that terrible asylum.   
  
And yet that had been as nothing compared to the lab.   
  
They had come for her, shortly after the first Bayville mutant sighting. An easy target. She had used her powers a little, in the asylum, when the guards got too rough with their games. In another world, these would have been dismissed, but in a time of mutant suspicion and paranoia, the strange events were token proof of her status as a mutie.   
  
Thus, she had been 'relocated' to the lab.   
  
The things they had done to her there...   
  
As the years passed, she had lost all hope. Hope was not something they permitted there. It was immeasurable, and thus, a threat to their world of numbers, charts and graphs. She had even tried to kill herself, but the scientists would not let her. She was a prize specimen.   
  
Then came the day of fate, the day when luck triumphed.   
  
She had been put in a cell with another girl, a girl who had been there almost as long as her - perhaps longer - and who was almost as mad. Her name eluded Wanda. Not that she would have known it anyway. Names were one of the first things to be taken away from the specimens - replaced by numbers. Wanda was specimen no. 7541. She knew it. It was tattooed on her arm.   
  
She remembered being pushed back into the cell, chained to the floor again after yet another day of tests and torture. She remembered the dull eyes of the other girl, broken so long before they met.  
  
But that day there had been one difference, for the scientists and guards had become lax, smug, and overconfident. On this day they had forgotten to switch on the inhibitor collar that specimens like her were always forced to wear when not using powers for testing purposes.   
  
The devil within her had emerged, then; roaring, defiant, and eager for freedom. She had wasted no time, hexing the room into submission and turning the chains, the walls, the porters to smoking dust around her.  
  
There had been no guards nearby. The lab was impenetrable, inside and out. It had been built to last out any assault, any emergency.   
  
Too bad it had not been built to withstand human stupidity and what it wrought.  
  
No-one expected an escape attempt. The guards had become negligent.   
  
For some inexplicable reason Wanda had dragged the other, broken girl with her. Perhaps because she wanted another to take the bullets zinging after them. Perhaps because some part of her fractured mind couldn't bear the though of leaving another to this place of... of *evil*. Perhaps it was simply easier than leaving her with her cold, frozen eyes in the dust.  
  
  
  
Companionship had not been part of it. As soon as they got out and reached their miraculous freedom they had each gone separate ways  
  
And somehow, someway, Wanda had stayed escaped ever since.   
  
She continued to dance and laugh alone in the desert, tears falling from her bloodshot eyes like burning rain.   
  
Now she was free.  
  
Now they would pay!   
  
They would pay for all the experiments, all the insults, all the beatings, and all the other things the guards had done in the night, when they thought they could get away with it on a poor, disturbed girl.   
  
But they would pay most of all for the thing they implanted within her.   
  
Her madness.  
  
But enough of that. There had to be an order. An order of revenge. She could start with Mother, pay her back for giving birth to her. Yes, that was the way to do it.  
  
But Mommy Dearest was dead. Nothing Wanda could do could affect her.   
  
That left her father. Order of importance.  
  
But where was he? Dead for all she knew. Powerful, if not. Too powerful, even for her.  
  
Brother, then.   
  
She could feel him, tugging at that silver bond between them; that bond that twins such as they shared. He was still there, waiting for her. Waiting for her to come for him.  
  
Her brother would be first. She stood a chance against him. She could rend his heart in two right before his eyes, let the blood drip onto his chest as he lay dying. The feel of it was tantalising, and she played with empty air, overlong fingernails scratching dust motes, imagining they were his veins spilling red ichor everywhere.   
  
Or, if he begged enough, if he pleaded enough, she might be persuaded to let him live, so that the siblings could take revenge on their sire together.   
  
Oh, how she missed Pietro, how she loved him. She longed to be held by him, to have him talk to her, tell her stories. She longed to hit him, to beat him, to have him beg for mercy at her feet.   
  
Giggling maniacally, Wanda stopped her dancing, and continued on her path to find her beloved, beloathed brother.   
  
She trusted that luck would guide her. It always had before.   
  
*******************  
  
"Sehr gut, sehr gut," Kurt muttered to himself in the wake of Pietro's rearranging of the bus' upper level. The gasoline canisters were gone, replaced by cardboard boxes filled with Forge's creations, both big and small, and none of which Kurt recognised. "Much better. If we leave the upstairs windows open, the smell should be mostly gone by dawn."   
  
{whine whine whine...}   
  
_The hell?_ Kurt tilted his head.   
  
{whine whine whine whine...}   
  
There, under the artful pile of scrap. Kurt crouched and moved a piece. A small black nose thrust out, and a pink tongue began licking his hand.  
  
"Hallo puppy," he whispered, surprised but pleased at the warm welcome. "Don't worry, you're safe with us. We have enough food so that we don't have to eat dog."   
  
She had food and water. He'd have to watch and see who went upstairs to check on her before he consulted with the conspirators.   
  
Besides, having a pet was good for people. He was living proof of that, and he descended back down the stairs with memories of Schwartzi his pet raven from Heirelgart dancing in his mind, plus all manner of other animals he'd tamed. Mamma had never been quite the same after he came home with a wolf pack in tow and asked if he could keep them.  
  
*******************  
  
Rogue stretched and scratched behind one ear. She must've nodded off again, for the sky above was dark, and the fire had been doused. In fact, it was the lack of heat that had caused her to wake.   
  
That, and the small hand tugging at her arm. She closed her eyes, trying to turn over.  
  
"Miss Rogue? Miss Rogue, Kurti says to get on the bus. We're leaving now. You can sleep there if you like."   
  
"Mrrfl," Rogue replied, cracking her eyelids open. Robyn waited patiently as the emaciated mutant orientated herself a little more and stood up. "What time is it?"   
  
"Time?"   
  
"Time. Y'know, the hour, minute, second. Time."   
  
"Oh. I can't tell time yet."   
  
Rogue blinked. "Oh, right. Sorry." She yawned openly, and let out a tiny burp. "Oops, 'scuse me."   
  
"Better out than in, Fraulein," Kurt commented as he appeared at her shoulder. Robyn leapt into his arms and hugged him tightly.   
  
"Kurti, can I sit with you this time?"   
  
Kurt smiled. "I don't think there's room for two where I travel, Kleines. Why don't you sit with Rogue?"   
  
Robyn peeked at her new 'sister'.   
  
"Sure. Why not?" Rogue shrugged, and was surprised when she abruptly acquired a ball of fluff that squeezed her tight.   
  
"Robyn," Kurt gently prized the little cat-girl off and set her down on the floor of the hangar, "I think Rogue's a little too frail at the moment for bear-hugs."   
  
"Nah, I'm fine," Rogue gasped. "She just caught me by surprise, is all. Ooh, my windpipe."  
  
"Liebling, why don't you want to sit with Daisy and Myst- I mean, Mommy?"   
  
Robyn frowned and fiddled with the tuft of her tail. "Pie-Pie said it's not good for me to sit with Mommy. Daisy neither. He said she's bad for us, and we should keep away from her." She looked up at them and tilted her head in such a manner as would've made anybody with even slightly maternal instincts to coo and declare her 'cute'. "He said some other stuff about her, too, but there were rude words. Daisy told me what they mean, 'cause her Pa used to call her them, but I don't like to say them. They're not nice."   
  
At this, Kurt's brow knitted. If Pietro was trying to stir dissent against Mystique then his anger towards the shapeshifter was getting a little out of hand. Mystique needed the child contact of Daisy and Robyn to stave off her demons, and if Pietro was trying to deny her even that small comfort, then it was perhaps time to have a private word with him. He resolved to pull the speedster to one side before they boarded the bus.   
  
"We goin'?" Rogue asked, breaking him from his reverie.   
  
"Was? Oh, ja." Kurt, too, glanced up at the rapidly blackening sky. "The sooner we get on the road, the better. Ororo needs us to get to her as soon as we can."   
  
"Ororo? That the Goddess y'all were tellin' me about before I dozed off?"   
  
"Ja."   
  
Robyn slipped her little hand inside Rogue's and said shyly; "I'll tell you all about the Goddess if you like, Miss Rogue."   
  
Despite herself, Rogue couldn't help a small smile spreading across her paler-than-pale face. "I'd like that," she said, returning the gesture and accepting her hand. "I'd like that a lot. One thing though."   
  
Robyn's expression turned a little uncertain. "Yes?"   
  
"Stop callin' me 'Miss', would you? If we're gonna be sisters, then it's just Rogue."   
  
Robyn just smiled and led her away.   
  
*******************  
  
"Pietro..."   
  
"What?"   
  
"The war is *over*. Both sides *lost*, OK? Everyone lost, and you can't win by waving one set of sins around to hide your own. We survived. Others paid the price. Get over it."   
  
"What'dIdo?" Pietro raised his hands in the universal gesture for innocence. Kurt was not swayed.  
  
"You know exactly what you did. You're poisoning the kids against my mother. Stop it."   
  
"But... she's *Mystique*. She's only looking out for herself."   
  
"She *was*, Pietro. Four years ago. Four years ago *you* were a self-centred prick who couldn't hang around to help his friend. Four years ago I was a scared spitless kid who ran out on his new family and left them to die. Should we be judged on what we did four years ago?"   
  
Slowly, ever so slowly, Pietro shook his head. "Guess not."   
  
"Right. Remember that." Kurt hobbled onto the bus and over to his mother. "Ach... I'm too tired to hang onto the straps, tonight. Can I use you for a pillow?"   
  
Mystique looked up. Her son. One day, a babe in arms. Another day, a grown boy. And today, a man[1]. "You'd spend time with me?" She sounded surprised. Apparently, she'd heard the conversation outside the door.  
  
Kurt winced mentally, berating himself for not talking to Pietro someplace other than right outside the bus. "You're my mother. How could I not?"   
  
"Some people think I'm evil."   
  
"Nobody's *all* evil. Everyone has their positive points."   
  
She snorted. "Yeah? What's mine?"   
  
"For a start, you can sit relatively still for six hours." He made himself as comfortable as he could get on the chair. "And secondly, you can shapeshift yourself some nice soft legs, ja?"   
  
Mystique sighed. "Ja."   
  
For the first time in her life, she held her son's head in her lap.   
  
*******************  
  
Strong.  
  
Like Iron.   
  
No... like Oak.   
  
Like Stone.   
  
He was strong.   
  
He had to be.   
  
For his people.   
  
His people....   
  
If he turned his head in a particular direction he could hear them over the whine and thrum of the engines that powered the stasis tubes.   
  
Fuelled by his power, to save his children. Children of a broken world...   
  
One, the scarred, scattered boy.   
  
Gabrielle's baby.  
  
A girl who ran with wolves.  
  
Her mad brother.  
  
Another who spoke in any tongue imaginable.   
  
The poor little insect boy.  
  
The girl who screamed.   
  
The girl who sparkled and glittered and sang... until the gangs caught her.  
  
A chalk-faced woman of damnable luck.  
  
The families from the ruins of Europe and Britain.  
  
He had found them, taken them from the pits of the respective hells they were in, healed them, and given them sanctuary. Of a sort.  
  
One day there would be a place of safety, a place they could find... peace? Somewhere to grow strong. Somewhere to begin again, to take back the world. Then, maybe, after that he could rest.   
  
Thin fingers steepled in front of a worn face   
  
He was strong.   
  
He was Erik.   
  
He was what he was, no more and no less.  
  
He was Magneto.  
  
His eyes came to rest on a broken chessboard.   
  
_And can you be sure that this time it will work my old friend?_  
  
"One day Charles... one day. I come from a patient people, do I not?"   
  
A sigh that was not a sigh. _What about those who are still on the Earth; the children? Our children?_  
  
Erik slammed a fist down on the table, the noise echoing in the empty room. "Damn it, Charles! I have done all I can! I searched! I remember the contingency plans! I formed half of them, didn't I? All I can do is gather what children are left, and see them to a place of safety. The Earth... it is already ours Charles. Man has killed himself."   
  
_Look again..._  
  
"What?"  
  
_Look again..._  
  
Madness...   
  
_Look again..._  
  
Can a man without faith pray? Erik exhaled something, and gestured. A monitor flew from one of the walls, the screen flickering over various parts of the globe until it settled on three images.   
  
An abandoned warehouse filled with equally abandoned aircraft, but dotted with familiar readings. He squinted, wondering.  
  
"But I have been mistaken before."   
  
And yet...  
  
A patch of green in the middle of slightly unnatural electromagnetic resonance.   
  
A lone figure dancing in the desert.   
  
Sitting in a iron asteroid, far above the world,[2] Erik smiled.   
  
His children lived, then? Was there hope for his bleakness?   
  
There was a sanctuary, somewhere safe, where they could learn and grow and take back what was rightfully theirs.   
  
And after that, he could rest.   
  
Rest...  
  
With a snort, Erik's head jerked up from where it had nodded onto his arm. He blinked into the dark room, re-orientating himself. The chessboard was still broken, but he no longer had an opponent, and the room around him thrummed like nothing had been moved. The monitors were all smashed, as they had been when he awoke one not yet ready to wake. Unusable.  
  
A dream, or a portent?  
  
He didn't know.   
  
Most likely they were all false - the product of a tired mind and nothing more. He couldn't weep for either offspring or friends lost to him so long ago. No. They were gone - vanished.   
  
He could not weep, for he was Magneto.  
  
And he was strong.  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] He was 16 when the 'war' started. That makes him 20 now.  
  
[2] _Ground Control to Major Tom_ side-fling. "For here am I, sitting in a tin can, far above the world. Planet Earth is blue, and there's nothing I can do..." 


	15. Wake While Angels Sleep Eternal

A/N ~ Ten reviews for one chapter? Thank you very much, all of you. Hope you like this one as much. Drop a line and let me know what you think. Just remember; what is fragmented now, must become whole again later.   
  
*******************  
  
Fifteenth Fragment ~ Wake While Angels Sleep Eternal  
  
*******************  
  
The bus juddered and shuffled, and those on board who weren't already asleep clung onto their respective seats as the road suddenly became bumpy and broken. Evidently the fighting not far from the airfield had reached new proportions, and left the manmade landscape scarred and beaten in its wake.   
  
Mystique was one such passenger, though she couldn't turn her head enough to see if any others apart from herself and the ever-continuing Logan were awake. Despite having slept little, the gruff mutant seemed tireless. He didn't talk much though, and she didn't instigate conversation.   
  
By her side, Daisy had fallen into a fitful sleep after much fidgeting and claiming she just *had* to go upstairs one more time. She'd eventually settled down with her face making waffle-marks in the shapeshifter's side, and now slumbered, sucking her thumb and groping blindly at her 'mother' for comfort.   
  
Robyn had decided to travel with Rogue on the other side of the bus, and the two of them sat curled up in each other's arms across from Kitty and Lance. Mystique didn't begrudge her daughters their company. In truth, it felt right somehow that Rogue should be able to spend time with someone who hadn't known her before; who didn't notice the strange little ticks she'd picked up ever since returning to them from that hellish place...   
  
Little things, really. Things perhaps only a mother would know - although she'd noticed Pietro looking strangely at his old teammate more than once. The way she was constantly looking over her shoulder, as if waiting for something, or someone to pounce on her. The way she shivered when there wasn't any breeze or hint of the cold. The way she rubbed at her neck, as if checking there was nothing metallic pressed against her skin...  
  
Rogue would probably never be quite the same again. You couldn't just go through something as horrific as a mutant research lab and come out the other side smelling of roses. It was good that she'd regained as much of her humanity as she had already, considering it'd been so little time since Audrey was banished and the mutant girl reawakened the memories she'd suppressed for so long. She had her newly-discovered brother to thank for that small miracle.   
  
Mystique gazed down at her grown son. She could still remember holding him that fateful night when he tumbled from her grasp and over the waterfall. She'd thought he was lost to her then, and again when the virus came and the Xavier Institute was slaughtered. And now, here he was, returned to her at last.   
  
She reached out and made to stroke the fur on his temple. She wanted to make sure he was real, and not just the product of her deranged imagination.   
  
Todd had gone quiet since her earlier conversation with Logan. Perhaps he was satisfied for the time being that she was making the effort to renew his chance at life.   
  
Kurt twitched as her fingers came close, and she paused. His face contorted into an expression akin to fear, and he started to mutter in quick, breathless German at a nightmare.   
  
Mystique hadn't spent countless years in Germany without picking up the language, but as she listened to her son's babbling she wished she hadn't. He sounded scared, and it troubled her that she could do nothing but shush him softly against his fears.   
  
"[No,]" he whispered, "[Stay back. I'm sorry for what happened, I really am. Please, just leave me alone...]"   
  
"Hush," she murmured, bending her head and planting a kiss on his forehead. "Hush."   
  
Kurt twisted until his sleeping face stared blankly up at hers, lids closed. "[I didn't mean for it to happen,]" he whispered desperately. "[Please try to understand. It was Winzeldorf all over again. I-I-I wanted to stay, but I couldn't. I *didn't* leave you to die. Please, I...]" He trailed off into quiet sobbing.   
  
Mystique's brow crinkled in dismay. Her poor baby. He had his own demons to contend with this night. "Hush, liebling," she soothed, falling back into old habits and brushing his cheek. "[I'm here.]"   
  
"Mama?" He was still asleep, but she answered anyway.   
  
"Ja, liebling. Ja."   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro watched her from the back of the bus through narrowed eyes. Mystique's actions, though noble enough in sentiment, didn't ring true with him somehow. Despite his little tête-à-tête with Kurt before leaving, the idea of allowing the tricky shapeshifter to stay still left a nasty taste in his mouth.   
  
Kurt was a fool where family was concerned; this much Pietro had learned of late. Kurt was so bent on retrieving his 'kin' that he was blind to what they were really like. Some people would say the elf saw only the good in people. Pietro chose to think he only ignored the bad.   
  
It would take a lot more than some telling-off from someone barely the same age to deter Pietro's hatred. His feelings against Mystique ran far deeper than merely Todd's death. The fact that she'd abandoned them in his eyes had made her his nightmare for months after the break-up of the Brotherhood.   
  
Pietro had lost many things in his life; had lost many people. When he came to Bayville he'd been promised a new start. A place where he'd never have to worry about being alone again, about being abandoned.   
  
When Mystique left and didn't come back he'd felt worse than alone, he'd felt betrayed. She was his only link to his father, and with her, so went Magneto.   
  
Magneto.   
  
Was he still alive?   
  
Who knew? If the great Charles Xavier could be killed off, then why not the Master of Metal? He wasn't invulnerable, nor immortal. He was just a man.   
  
Had been just a man.   
  
Pietro watched Mystique bend and kiss Kurt's face once more, and his eyes became bleak slits. Mystique would never worm her way back into his heart. He'd learned from Kurt's brusqueness beside the bus not to voice his abhorrence anymore, but she'd never win him back to her side.   
  
Never.   
  
The speedster blinked as he contemplated Kurt's words. _Four years ago *you* were a self-centred prick who couldn't hang around to help his friend. _   
  
They'd stung.   
  
Of course they had. Kurt had taken Pietro's greatest failing and spoken about it like a teacher to a naughty child. It was humiliating, but somehow... it also made Pietro feel desperately ashamed of himself on some basic level.   
  
He shouldn't have tried to turn Robyn and Daisy - that much he now realised. Kurt was fiercely protective of his 'little sister', and had adopted Daisy into a similar, if not quite so potent mould as Robyn's status.   
  
_Huh, there goes the 'family' schtick again. Boy, is Fuzzy a sucker for that crap._   
  
Pietro had no family anymore, save for the contents of this bus, and they hardly counted. He didn't care. Except maybe for Robyn. Robyn didn't judge him, or know what he'd done. She was too young, too innocent. Even Daisy knew too much, could look at him with fear or knowledge and wondering at what he'd done in life to survive. A child, made to grow up so damn fast it was almost obscene...  
  
He blinked as he realised that it was perhaps not so much what was said, but who'd said it that had hurt him. Kurt had extended the hand of friendship, misshapen as it was, and offered Pietro a last glimmer of hope in a wasteland he'd thought held none. To hear the elf-boy sound so... angry with him. It'd hurt. Maybe more than he cared to realise. Kurt was his friend. His first true friend since Todd died.   
  
But he wouldn't forgive Mystique for him. That was asking too much.   
  
Too much entirely.   
  
"Hush," she whispered inaudibly, lulling her son into a happier slumber. "Hush, Kurti."   
  
Pietro closed his ears and blocked out the sound of her voice. He couldn't forgive her. Not now. Not ever.   
  
_Sorry, Kurt. Not even for you._   
  
*******************  
  
_Welcome to Hershey_, a battered green sign proclaimed to the world.   
  
Mystique had travelled much in her day, and had a feeling she would be seeing many familiar places as the stolen bus rattled westward. The last time she'd passed this way, the smell of chocolate was so heavy in the air that one gained weight just by breathing [1]. Now, the only aroma she could detect was the persistent odour of gasoline.   
  
In her lap, Kurt groaned and twitched his nose. Whether this was in reaction to a real scent or an imagined one, she could only wonder.   
  
_Harrisburg_, the next sign proudly declared. _Capital of Pennsylvania. Pop. 50,900._   
  
Logan was certainly driving fast. Idly, Mystique tried to calculate the gas mileage of a double-decker bus, and how far their fuel stores might get them.   
  
They passed another sign, which had apparently been vandalised at some point, and now read merely, _Pitts_.   
  
Pietro had finally fallen asleep, his eyes no longer burning into the back of her neck, but Rogue was now awake. As mother and daughter lay with furry heads in their laps, they spoke quietly, tentatively. After all, how much did they really know about each other anymore?  
  
"Maybe I should've asked this back in Philly," Rogue said logically, "but what are we all doin' on this bus? I mean, really."   
  
"Travelling," Mystique replied simply. Before Rogue could make a sarcastic comeback, she continued, "To find the Goddess. That's the truth, honestly. He," she nodded to Alvin, awake but absorbed in some thick text, "is one of her followers. He seems to have prophecies for all of us," she added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
"What's mine?" Rogue asked curiously, the tone of her voice telling Mystique that she still was not quite able to accept the idea of going Goddess hunting.  
  
Mystique leaned forward just enough to tap Alvin on the shoulder. Closing the book on his finger, he turned to face her. "Yes, Blessed One?"   
  
"Alvin, do you have a prophecy for Rogue?"   
  
The disciple's eyes slid to the left as he thought. "Yes," he said after a moment. "Girl of fire and ice walks narrow path, seeks self in chaos, touches hearts with fear."   
  
"Fire and ice," Rogue repeated. "I'm the girl of fire and ice?" She screwed up her face in thought.   
  
"Why?" Mystique's brow furrowed. "Do you know what it means?"   
  
Rogue sighed and closed her eyes. "Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favour fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate, to say that for destruction, ice is also great and would suffice." She opened her eyes and fixed her mother with a penetrating gaze. "Robert Frost."   
  
Alvin paged frantically through his book. "You are destined to be linked to the apocalypse?" he said, as his eyes scanned the pages. "Mayhap... even the cause of it? Not good. Definitely not good..."   
  
*******************  
  
Ariel woke to spectators, who jumped back up a step. He surfaced and blinked at them. "Can I help you?"   
  
"See? I tole' you he weren't dead."   
  
"But he was drownded," said the youngest of the small batch of kids.   
  
"You got gold all over," said the little girl next to her.   
  
Ariel blushed as he left the water and reached for his pants. "I'm fairly sure you shouldn't be looking at naked boys..."   
  
"Why not? I gots five brothers."   
  
Ariel sighed. "Good for you." He pulled on his shirt. "Why are you here?"   
  
"We wanted t' go swimmin' an' we see'd your drownded body."   
  
"I wanned ta poke y' with a stick," said the redhead. He had freckles dotted all over his grinning face, and didn't seem in the least repentant.  
  
"You was breathin' through yer neck," said the girl.   
  
Ariel nodded. "I know, I have gills."   
  
"COOL!"   
  
"You kin sleep in our swimmin' hole anytime!"   
  
"Jest don't pee in it none."   
  
Ariel laughed. "Even if I did, I could draw those impurities out. You've seen me work, haven't you?"   
  
"Work?"   
  
Ariel twiddled a finger and made a dragon out of water. "I control water. It's my mutant power."   
  
"Whoah."   
  
"Neat."   
  
"C'n I pet it?" asked the youngest shyly.  
  
Ariel chuckled. "Enjoy. You can even swim. Be careful, though. This is living water. It's very rare,   
  
these days."   
  
Her hand paused halfway to the dragon. "Livin' water?"   
  
"This basement is an ecosystem." Ariel pointed out the elements. "See? Growing weed puts oxygen in the water. Fish eat the weed. Frogs live here, and some insects, too. Most of them go to hide when you swim."   
  
"Real frogs?"   
  
"Yes," said Ariel. "I was told they were dead. Extinct. But I felt them as I slept."   
  
The redhead screwed up his face. "What's extinct?"   
  
"Extinct means all gone." Ariel checked his vest pockets absently. "No more like it, ever."   
  
"Is that bad?" the young girl asked with genuine concern.   
  
"Yup." Satisfied that all his possessions were still there, Ariel pulled the makeshift garment over his head. "If the frogs are gone, they're not eating the flies. Then the mosquitoes go and have lots of little mosquito babies and they take over the world and Eat Little Girls!" As he uttered this prophecy of doom, the mutant boy rose and reached half-curled fingers towards the girl.   
  
With an "eep", she shrank back against her sister.   
  
"Well, maybe not that bad." Ariel dropped his arms to his sides. "But be careful anyway, all right?"   
  
They nodded fervently. Ariel winked, and walked out of the building, emerging into the light of a new day.   
  
*******************  
  
"Please, Goddess... eat?"   
  
Her appetite was shot, but they offered her the best of their foods anyway. "What is it?"   
  
"Pork and chicken. And vegetables, of course."   
  
Ororo nodded. To this day, she refused to eat cats or dogs. She knew others would, since they were desperate, and did not forbid the consumption of that flesh. Still, others decreed the meat unclean since she, the Goddess, refused to touch it, and kept with her taboo.   
  
She ate a spoonful of the offering. It was warm and salty, and she knew she should eat as much as she could stomach. "Any news?"   
  
"There was a Blessed One auctioned again," said her devotee. "A boy with golden skin who could move water. Our Devoted tried to win him, but couldn't offer more than two apple trees. He was sold to another."   
  
"We will win in time," Ororo soothed. "Soon, we'll have enough to win, and free them. What of my missionaries? Have any returned?"   
  
"None, yet. Communication is... unreliable. We *have* had some carts returned - empty - by the raiders."   
  
Ororo took another spoonful. "You're not telling me all your news."   
  
"One was written on. The message said, 'thanks for the food'. We don't know if they..."   
  
"Forgive them," Ororo whispered. "They won't accept our help, and they insist on taking what they need wherever they can find it. Humans are meat, too."   
  
Her devotee kowtowed. "I'm humbled by the Goddess' wisdom."   
  
"Please don't do that. We need all the sense we have. Don't knock yours out on my behalf?"   
  
"As you will, Goddess."   
  
As hard as she tried, she could not stop them calling her that. She ate more soup. "Do you have good news?"   
  
"Yes! Sara is with child. Seer says that there's a high chance it will be Blessed. He can't tell the gender, as yet."   
  
"And Lynne?"   
  
"No change, thanks be. She's confined to bed, but her child has shown no more signs of coming early."   
  
"Keep feeding her the herbs as often as you can, and give her a little alcohol if she has the pains before her time..." Ororo trailed off. She concentrated on the weather. "Yes..." she whispered. "Soon."   
  
"Goddess?"   
  
"My microclimate," she breathed. "It's getting stronger. I can finally rest, soon. Very soon. Just a few more days."   
  
"Then eat, Goddess? Please? You need to be strong yourself. Your people need you."   
  
Yes. She could eat a little more. She could eat until her stomach threatened to rebel. "Yes," she said. "I do need my strength."  
  
*******************  
  
Hours passed uneventfully, and the bus soon reached the edge of Pennsylvania. They passed a worn and battered sign, on which only the word _Ohio_ could be made out. However, that was not what grabbed their attention.   
  
A little way from the sign was a huge, crude crucifix composed of roughly hewn beams. Tied to it with rotted rope was a body, features mostly decayed away except for two, splendid wings - which might once have been white, except mould, dust, and blood had discoloured them. Around the neck hung a notice scrawled on splintered wood.   
  
_Mutie Scum DIE_  
  
Kurt gawked openly at it through the window, awed and dismayed by the naked hatred that had gone into making such a disgusting article. It was enough to turn even the strongest of stomachs, if not from disgust than from fear.  
  
A little voice at his elbow asked in a hushed, almost reverent tone, "Is that an angel?"   
  
Kurt looked down at Robyn's curious, cat-like face. He was struck with the urge to push her away, to hide the terrible sight from her eyes and keep her innocent a little longer. Then he remembered that she had seen worse than this on the streets of Bayville, and that keeping her innocent would probably do more harm than good.   
  
"Nein liebling," he replied softly. "Only a man."   
  
"How long's he been there, d'ya think?" asked Rogue, her voice, like the others, in a hushed whisper, as if fearing to disturb the dead.   
  
"Over seventy days, I think," Pietro replied, his own voice loud, casual, as though passing on the time of day. Dead bodies were nothing new to him. "Biology textbook once told me that you can tell, because the skin goes kinda - "   
  
"That's enough, thank you," interjected Kurt, "I don't want to know."   
  
They stood in silence for a while.   
  
Eventually, Lance spoke up. "I... I've heard of Ohio - on the road, I mean. They say that the plague didn't hit quite so hard here, there's still a large population of humans. Combatively speaking, of course."   
  
"Isn't that good?" Rogue asked.   
  
"Not when every single one of them is after mutant blood."   
  
"The gangs around here... are very powerful," Alvin murmured thoughtfully. "My people try to avoid this place when we can. Mutant sympathisers are killed outright. Mutants... are rarely so fortunate."   
  
Kurt waited a second, and then prised himself up, only wincing the tiniest bit when his injured rear brushed the seat. He skittered to the front of the bus and clung onto the back of Logan's chair to save himself from falling over as they bumped and bustled their way along the broken road.   
  
Outside, the sky was growing ever so slightly lighter, stars being absorbed into a carpet of dull grey. Kurt glanced up at it out of habit, and without bothering to look at a watch he estimated the time to be about 4 a.m. It was a quirk of his mutation that he never really needed to look at a timepiece to know around about what time it was. Nothing as specific as a clairvoyant, mind, but it was enough. You couldn't exactly buy watch batteries from stores anymore.   
  
"Herr Logan, is there any way we can go around this place instead of through it?"   
  
Logan gave a short, humourless laugh. "With our gas supply? Think again, Elf. If we wanna reach 'Ro on what we got, then a straight line's our best bet."   
  
Kurt chewed his lower lip. "But the gangs..."   
  
"We'll just hafta be extra careful. Hey, God Boy!"   
  
"My name is Alvin, Blessed One."   
  
He shrugged. "Whatever. You got any more info on these gangs? Like, whether they come out in daylight?"   
  
Alvin retrieved another book from his cart and started flicking through it. "There is an account written by one of our order not so long ago who ventured hence and returned to us full of stories... Ah, here it is."   
  
All turned to look at the zealot.  
  
He cleared his throat and began to read aloud. "From the account of Gerrad Longman. 'I have travelled far and wide, yet never have I come across such blatant savagery as is imbued upon these people. They know not compassion, nor fear, and the only words that grace their lips are filled with malice, hate, and the desire to do harm. Their hands are made, it seems, only for the cruel pleasure of torture, and their tongues merely for taunting their prey, of which anything can become a part. They happened upon me when the sun rose to its zenith, ransacking my cart and chasing me from their land with threats ringing in my ears. Goddess take pity on any who stray into this land of the wicked, for they seem not to sleep, eat or perform any other basic human task other than kill what they do not recognise, or mutilate what they do not care for. They are many, and widespread, and it was pure luck from our Goddess that I have returned this day to relate my tale to all. Stave off the land of the Clawhands and Steelfeet, lest ye be rent to shreds by their wrathful woe.'"   
  
Everyone gaped as he finished. That answered that question, then.   
  
Rogue swallowed. "What're the 'Clawhands' and 'Steelfeet'?"   
  
Alvin reverentially closed the tome and sighed. "Names of the gangs these wicked people have joined, I fear. I implore you, Blessed One Logan. Turn away from this place of evil. We shall find another way."   
  
"There *is* no other way," Logan replied. His voice was harsh, his tone grim. "If we skirt around then we're done for anyway. No way we'll reach 'Ro in time, before she..." he trailed off, leaving the thought hanging in the air. He didn't need to say it, for they all knew what he meant, and saw the sense behind his words, even if they didn't like or agree with it.   
  
Before she died.   
  
Alvin had said Ororo was dying. They needed to reach her before it was too late.   
  
Mystique glanced down as a small hand took hers. Daisy was cuddled up to her side, one half of her face red and puckered where she'd pressed too hard. Her scaly little fingers with intertwined with the shapeshifter's, and she looked up with something akin to fear in her pale eyes.   
  
Mystique's expression hardened, and she raised her head. "We don't stop," she said bluntly. "No resting off the bus today. If we keep going during the daylight hours then we might just make it through without meeting any of these mutant hunters. We can rest and refuel tonight, someplace quieter. Safer."   
  
Kurt frowned. "But Herr Logan needs to rest - "   
  
"I'm fine, Elf," Logan cut him off without taking his eyes from the road ahead. "I'll be even better once we're outta this place and left it far behind us. Raven's right. If we keep going and don't stop then we'll be better off all round. I can rest later. Healing factor, remember?"   
  
Kurt blinked. Had he just called Mystique by her real name? *Nobody* did that. Not even herself.   
  
"All right, then," he agreed, albeit with a precursory glance at everybody else first to make sure. "We keep going, and we don't stop until we're through this godforsaken place."   
  
Logan only nodded, but he waited until Kurt had returned to his seat before pressing the accelerator that little bit harder.   
  
After all, a bus was a very big, very noisy target.   
  
*******************  
  
"Wake up."   
  
_Aw, c'mon Aunt May, just five more minutes?_  
  
Rough hands grabbed him then, and he jolted awake. He felt wet and cold, and when he tried to take a breath, he could only cough and choke. There was something in his mouth. Something thick and sticky, and it clogged his throat like molasses.  
  
"Welcome back to the land of the living."   
  
He was finally able to draw breath, and he leaned against the wall for support before opening his eyes.   
  
What he saw before him astounded him. He was in a cubic room with metal walls, ceiling, and floors. Everything seemed to shine like it was newly polished, but a second look revealed patches of rust and signs of ageing, even neglect. To his sides were tubes filled with a green liquid, a few of which were empty, much like the one behind him.   
  
Yet what drew his attention was the tall, imposing man standing in front of him. The owner of the voice he had heard.   
  
The man wore red metallic armour - the kind that would have made him laugh had he not seen the thing's he'd seen - but had the face of a dignified old man. His white hair hung long about his shoulders, and piercing eyes did not leave him for a moment.   
  
"Where... where am I?"   
  
"You are safe now, Peter. I rescued you from the New York gangs who would kill you for what you are. You are on Asteroid M, a sanctuary in space for those who have no further use for Earth."   
  
_Well, that explains everything,_ he thought, something green and sticky dribbling off his fingers. "And who are you?"   
  
"I am Magneto," the man said with a tone of finality. "Your wounds have healed well, Peter. I believe it is time for you to meet your new family." There was an air of irrevocability to his voice, like objection or protest were out of the question.   
  
He gestured for him to follow to the next room, and before Peter could move, he found himself trailing the man. After a panicked moment he realised that, somehow, the floor was moving underneath him. A metal runway of sorts, almost like a conveyer belt.  
  
A portal opened before them, and the two entered a lavishly furnished room, complete with a fireplace and couches. It was a complete antithesis to the room they had just left.  
  
"Good morning, children," the man began. "Come meet the newest addition to our family. Peter."   
  
He stepped to the left, allowing Peter to see the inhabitants of the room and the inhabitants to see him.   
  
On the left side, as far from the fireplace as possible, sat three identical boys - triplets. They raised their heads as one and spoke. "Hello, Peter."   
  
A girl was sitting on the floor amidst a pile of paper. A faint halo of light surrounded her, and she smiled a dazzling smile. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, a trail of light spelled, "Hello, Peter," in the air around her.   
  
Last, a girl uncurled herself from beside the fire and stretched lazily. Peter noticed, as most boys would, that she was not wearing much clothing, and kept his attention focused on her face. She looked up at him, not bothering to rise above a kneeling position. "Why, hello Peter." Her voice contained the hint of a lilting Scottish brogue, but Peter was more distracted by the spiked collar around her neck, replete with metal dog tags.   
  
Magneto pointed to each in turn. "They are Multiple. He was born with the strange mutation to split his body into many. When I found him, the gangs had beaten him so much there were in excess of one hundred of him. I rescued all that I could, and one by one, they reabsorbed into one another. All except these three."   
  
The boys did not react; they merely glanced at one another for a moment, and then returned their attention to studying Peter. They could not have been above sixteen, if that.  
  
Magneto pointed to the next one. "This is Dazzler. She has the powerful ability to turn sound into light and energy. However, she used too much energy fighting off a mob one time, and now any sound she produces is automatically turned into light."   
  
She just shrugged and nodded, her smile warm and friendly as sunbeams.   
  
"And finally," the strange old man said, "this is Wolfsbane. She can turn into a wolf, a girl, or anywhere in between." He did not say more, and the girl only smiled widely, displaying a row of dangerous looking teeth. All of them pointed. All of them sharp.  
  
"So where do I fit in with all this?" Peter asked rather bemusedly. What had happened? Why couldn't he *remember* anything?  
  
"You will complete my first true team. When the time comes, you four will finish the work I have begun. You will rescue the mutant race from Earth, and we will leave it to the savages." Magneto paused to compose himself. "Dazzler, please show Peter to his room so that he may get cleaned up. Explain to him anything he needs to know. We will start training tonight, after dinner."   
  
Dazzler stood up, leaving the scattered papers behind her, and snapped her fingers. Instead of a sound, a flash of light appeared. It slowly transformed into an arrow, and shot down a hallway. Peter was mesmerised despite himself, and began to follow her like this was not all part of some strange, freakish nightmare no pinching would awaken him from.  
  
Suddenly, he was stopped once more by Magneto's voice.   
  
"Oh, and Peter? Now that you are a part of our family, you will need a new name. We do not use Earth names on Asteroid M."   
  
"Wha-?" Earth names? Asteroid M? Had he been eating that really strong cheese before bed, again?  
  
"No longer will you be Peter Parker," Magneto said imperially, like a king knighting someone. "Now, you are the Spider-Man."   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] It's true! 


	16. Brother Elf, Brother Man

A/N ~ Many thanks to Tyriel1, UnknownSource, Krazy Xanadu and Makura Koneko for reviewing. Glad that the appearance of Spidey went down well, although I should warn you that this incarnation leans more towards the movie version than the original comic one. Great as it would be to have all that inbuilt angst, he just had *too much* background to be a workable addition to the cast. As to the identity guy on the cross, you can make up your own minds on that one...  
  
*******************  
  
Sixteenth Fragment ~ Brother Elf, Brother Man  
  
*******************  
  
_Columbus, 125 miles_   
  
For the first time since Philadelphia, the travelling mutants began to see signs of human life.   
  
"Elf, take the kids and get upstairs," Logan ordered. "The rest of you now have the virus. I'm taking you to a commune so you can die without infecting anyone else."   
  
"Sounds like fun," Pietro said without enthusiasm.   
  
"Come on then," Kurt sighed, getting up again. "We'll play a little hide-and-go-seek, ja?"   
  
Robyn hopped off the bench to follow, but Daisy reached over Mystique and caught her sister's arm.   
  
"He can't go upstairs!" she hissed. "He'll find the... y'know!"   
  
Robyn shrugged helplessly. "Maybe Clive is a good hider."   
  
Mystique pretended not to notice the not-quite-secret conversation, but couldn't help wondering two things. Who was Clive? And why was he on the bus?   
  
"Liebes?" Kurti called from some distance up the stairs.   
  
"Coming!" Robyn scampered towards the back of the bus. Daisy clambered over Mommy and followed her.   
  
When they reached the second level, they found Kurti already holding the cinnamon-coloured puppy, which wriggled and twisted, trying to lick his face. "Care to explain?" he invited.   
  
"I-don't-know-how-he-got-here, I've-never-seen-him-before-in-my-life," Daisy deadpanned, hands behind her back.   
  
"Well, first," Kurti said, as the furry bundle squirmed in his arms, "she's a girl. And second, I strongly doubt she flew in the window. Want to try again?"   
  
"We found her under the bus," Robyn admitted. "We couldn't leave her! She's so... small... and all alone..."   
  
A sigh. "It's okay," Kurti beckoned for her to sit by him, and stroked her hair. "She can stay."   
  
"Her name's Clive," Daisy said, exhaling loudly now that she knew they weren't going to be thrown off the bus for keeping secrets.   
  
"But you've never seen her before," Kurti winked.   
  
"Um..." Daisy looked around. "No. Never."   
  
"Better."  
  
*******************  
  
Logan was expecting the roadblock. Whoever it was run by, he couldn't care. He just hoped they were a bunch of suckers.   
  
"Any muties on there?"   
  
"Nope," he lied. "Just folks off to a commune. Got th' sickness.   
  
The guard backed away a pace. "Don't you go bringin' no mutie sickness into *our* town."   
  
"Well, I'd go around, but we don't got enough food or gas. We can trade for it if you want. The whole back's full of trade stuff."   
  
The guard conferred with his compatriots. They were a gaunt, ragged bunch, bodies too thin and eyes too haggard. They reached a decision quickly. "A'right, you can go through, but you don't stop until you're clear of this town, got it?" And he pasted a biohazard sign to the front of the bus.   
  
"Check," said Logan, warming up the bus again.   
  
*******************  
  
It used to be Des Moines, a town famed in the National Enquirer for weird happenings involving monsters, UFOs and Elvis. Now it was Mutie Town, a place where the outcasts went. A place so heavily fortified by its citizens that it resembled Fort Knox.   
  
It was there, on her baked, dry porch that Scry was staring into the clouds.   
  
"Raiders?"   
  
"No... I see a yellow chariot... bearing hope..."   
  
"Hope of what?"   
  
Scry shrugged. "Just hope. It's a long way away, yet. The signs will become clearer as they get closer."   
  
"You're supposed to be reading for Raiders," Grasshopper said irritably, "not giving us plant-cart gibberish."   
  
The plant-cart men, since they bore no malice against them, were allowed to trade - but not much else. Mutie Town had no use for Goddesses or her zealots' nursery rhymes. Pretty words never did anybody here any good.  
  
"I just read what I see," Scry said apologetically to his leader.   
  
Grasshopper rattled his wings in annoyance, making a sound like a cicada. "Are. There. Any. Raiders?"   
  
"I can't see any."   
  
"Right. Yellow alert."   
  
Scry nodded. Mutie Town was always on its guard.  
  
*******************  
  
Rogue didn't look so good. She wasn't feeling too hot, either. Mystique sent her a curious look as she rubbed tentatively at her temples, which had begun to throb not long after they passed the roadblock. The girl was looking even paler than usual, if that was possible, and there was a dull pounding in her ears that matched her pulse rate.   
  
"You okay?" asked the shapeshifter, who had adopted the guise of a nondescript human female, replete with nasty purple rash to support their story to the guards and anyone else who might look in the window of the bus as they passed.   
  
Rogue unsqueezed her eyes and gave a wan smile. "Yeah, just a headache is all. I'll be fine."   
  
"You sure?"   
  
"I'm sure I'm sure."   
  
Alvin, who had been listening, reached into yet another secret compartment on his cart and extracted a small fabric pouch, drawn tight with string. He loosened it and shook out a few small dried leaves. "Here." He offered one across. "Eat this. It relieves pain."   
  
Rogue gave the once-plant a critical look, but caught her mother's eye and accepted anyway. "Thanks," she said, popping it into her mouth and chewing. At once her expression switched to that of someone who'd sucked on a lemon. "Groo, what *is* this stuff? Tastes like cigarette ash." She swallowed, and stuck out her tongue. "Yeuch!"   
  
"Stopped you thinking about the pain in your head, though, didn't it?" quipped Mystique.   
  
Behind them, Pietro looked on with a reserved expression etching his features. Kitty was feeding Baby Hope, so it didn't feel right to look in the direction of either her or Lance, which left the other cluster of mutants-plus-zealot, and Logan.   
  
The speedster reclined back on his seat, having claimed the very back of the bus as per usual. It put enough distance between him and Mystique without having to move into the jeep, which was still trailing behind them like a dog on a leash.   
  
He closed his eyes, deciding to get a little shut-eye while the opportunity presented itself. His nerves were shot to pieces, travelling through a place renowned for its mutant haters, and he figured that the only outlet open right now was that of sleep.   
  
{Hmmmmrrrrrreeee}   
  
He rubbed at his ear, thinking he had tinatus, and settled down again.   
  
{Hmmmmrrrrrreeee}   
  
There it was again. A high-pitched whining sound, not unlike the creak of rending metal or knives being sharpened. Pietro opened his eyes and glanced around, wondering if there was something wrong with the bus. There was no discernible damage that he could see, but still...  
  
"Hey, Lance," he hissed, choosing the person he deemed least likely to tear him to shreds, bore him to death with religious babble, or make him feel sick for talking to at all.   
  
The elder boy looked up and twisted his head around. His eyes were still a little bleary with sleep, and he frowned. "What?"   
  
"You hear that?"   
  
"Hear what?"   
  
"That whining sound."   
  
Lance's forehead puckered. "No, I don't hear anything. Why d'ya ask?"   
  
Pietro waved a careless hand. "No reason. I must've imagined it. Sleep deprivation, y'know?"   
  
Lance grunted and turned forwards again, leaving Pietro to ponder his thoughts and wonder after the strange noise.   
  
Had his ghosts returned? They hadn't really talked to him much since he hooked up with Kurt and Robyn and got *real* conversations for a change, but it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that they were back to taunt him. Hell, they'd been doing it for four years; why leave him alone now?   
  
Yet there was something about the noise that didn't quite fit with that theory. It was too real. When he'd talked to his ghosts, their replies had always been firmly inside his head. He'd known it. That was how he'd recognised and accepted his own insanity. This strange whining was almost palpable.   
  
He listened closely, but it didn't come again, and after a few minutes his eyelids began to droop. Yawning, the silver-haired boy relinquished his vigil, since the noise didn't appear to be happening again anytime soon, and lay sideways on the seat. In a few short moments, he was asleep, the rocking of the bus doing a better job than any mother's arms ever could.   
  
*******************  
  
Upstairs, Robyn was currently feeding Clive a small package of foodstuff Kurti had snaffled from their stores to keep the dog quiet. Her whining was exceptionally loud for such a small puppy, and Kurt was so on edge that it ground on his nerves until he finally sacrificed part of their supplies to keep her quiet. Or at least a little muffled.   
  
Mouth rimmed with some unidentifiable brown gloop, Clive wagged her tail and advanced on the little cat and lizard girls. Robyn laughed as her face was dutifully licked, until Kurti shushed her with a finger to his lips.   
  
"Nein, Liebling, we must be quiet if we're to stay safe," he warned.   
  
Daisy put her hands around Clive's jaws in an effort to keep them closed, but the pup wriggled free and started to play-chew on her hand. "Aah, she's eating me!" Daisy squealed in delight. She was silenced by Robyn's hand when it was pressed across her mouth.   
  
"Kurti said to be quiet," she advised, darting a glance up at her brother.   
  
The atmosphere was strained, to say the least. Both girls felt either their neck fur or spines raise, pre-empting anything bad that was to happen. The tension was so thick you could've cut it with a knife, and soon even Clive felt it, huddling into Daisy's lap with a small, insignificant whine.   
  
*******************  
  
She felt angry. She had taken what Alvin had given her and the pain was gone... but Rogue felt angry. It seemed to flow in and out, coursing through her body...   
  
The townspeople were loud. They surrounded the bus, shouting. Rogue kept her eyes turned away and listened for a while, morbid curiosity making her want to hear their words, though she didn't want to see them...   
  
_Dammit! Why can't they just die and leave us in peace..._  
  
_Shattered world...they shattered..._  
  
_I can't believe he would think that about me..._  
  
_I hate this! This hovel, this place..._  
  
_So hungry..._  
  
_I wonder if he even sees me..._  
  
_Please..._  
  
_He's so cute..._  
  
_Nein...shhhh, Liebe..._  
  
Rogue blinked. "Kurt?" she murmured.   
  
Mystique cast her eyes at her, and Rogue shook her head, brushing it aside. Kurt must've needed to impress the need for quiet on the kids rather loudly.  
  
She turned back to the voices. The people were getting louder with every moment. Some of what they said... it just didn't make sense! And the feelings... her imagination was going wild, feeding her pictures and emotions...   
  
_I must be daydreamin',_ she thought. She was rather tired, after all, and...   
  
_Fuckin' muties..._  
  
_Lousy sick bastards..._  
  
_Get off the table, how many times do I have to tell you?_  
  
_You sick fuck... shut up!_  
  
_Are you sure YOU WANT THAT?_  
  
"Dammit! Why do they have to be so loud?!" Rogue cried, pressing her hands to her ears. Mystique rounded on her, looking bewildered.   
  
"Who's being loud?"   
  
"The people... don't y'all hear 'em?! Why can't they leave us be?"   
  
"Rogue... there's no-one there..."   
  
Rogue slowly took her hands from her ears and turned her gaze to the window.   
  
The streets were empty. They were alone.  
  
*******************  
  
He'd drawn quite a crowd - and he hadn't even had breakfast, yet.   
  
"Please, please, *please*, I beg your patience, ladies and gentlemen. *Please*. I need to eat. Have any of you brought anything? I'll trade water for it."   
  
"Water first, mutie!"   
  
"I have money to *buy* food if necessary. I'm *hungry*. I need food. Please... please just something to eat?"   
  
"Give us our water!"   
  
Maybe a little. To quell the crowd. "I don't have clean containers, yet. Therefore I'll trade for clean containers and food, first."   
  
A fight broke out amongst the buyers.   
  
"*Please*! There's no need for *fighting*," Ariel begged. "I can - oh..." His knees went out from under him.   
  
"The mutie's *sick*!" The crowd backed away.   
  
"Not sick. *Hungry*. I haven't eaten since early yesterday. Please, I just need a little food... I can buy..." To prove his point, his stomach rumbled loudly. "I need to eat or my power won't work. No water for anyone."   
  
Someone threw him a packet of Ramen. It hit him on his tattoo.   
  
Well, at least he had a kettle someone had traded with yesterday. Someone led him to a house that had a working plug, and then shovelled him back outside when he was done, like he was infectious and not to be welcomed  
  
The packet said it was 'pork', but it tasted more like Misu. Ariel didn't care. He needed the salt, and he needed nourishment. One packet of Ramen was all he was going to get for free.   
  
The assembled crowd watched him eat, like he was a show.   
  
Since he had no fork or spoon, he used a fraction of his power to help the noodles into his mouth. They did lend him some strength.   
  
"Today," he announced when he was done, "I'm buying *and* selling. I'll trade water for food *or* money, today. Whatever you wish to trade. I'm open to all options."   
  
"Damn mutie, takin' our food."   
  
"Food for water is a fair trade. I know how to grow plants and farm. I can teach you. I'll even help water the plants. We can work together and - " Someone hucked a pebble at him.   
  
"Can the plant-talk! We want water!"   
  
Ariel sighed. They'd listen in time. Maybe. They'd certainly listen to green plants and fresh fruit.   
  
It took patience to convert the determined.   
  
*******************  
  
"I can feel 'em," said Rogue. "I can feel 'em starin'. They're hidin' an' scared, but they're starin'..."   
  
_My poor daughter._ "It's all right, Marie. We'll be out of here, soon. Maybe the next town will trade food and gas. We'll be OK, honey."   
  
Rogue's voice dropped to a low whisper inaudible from beyond a few feet, like she was scared of what she was saying. "We got another mouth to feed, Momma. Daisy an' Robyn found a puppy. Don't ask me how I know, I just *do*. We *gotta* get trade. We *gotta* find food. Momma, they're tryin' to save th' poor li'l critter from bein' et."   
  
Momma held her close. "Ssshhhh... We'll be okay, honey. I promise. And this time, I'll keep my promises. I'm not going to break them any more. I'd rather die."   
  
At the back of the bus, Pie-Pie made a noise and went upstairs.   
  
*******************  
  
"Bullshit! It's all bullshit."   
  
"What is?" said Kurt, under a seat. The kids and the dog were both napping under another one, out of sight.   
  
"Mystique! That's what. She's pure bullshit!"   
  
"Remember, you're talking about my mother, here."   
  
"How can you *forgive* her? After what she did?"   
  
"Pie-Pie, I forgive her so I have a chance at forgiving myself."   
  
Pietro slumped. Then he swore. "You have a *real* way with words, you know that? A real *gift*. How the *fuck* do you do it?"   
  
"Shhh... die Kinder..." Kurt watched them for a moment. "We've been through war, Pie-Pie. We've survived where we shouldn't. Now's the time to rebuild, and you can't rebuild just by looking at the wreckage."   
  
Pietro sighed. "Maybe. But I can't forgive her. Not now. Not yet. I keep waiting for the angle. I keep waiting for her to ditch us again."  
  
"Why do you find it so hard to accept that Mystique has changed? We've all betrayed someone, Pietro. I my teammates by running away, and you by running away from Todd, ja?"  
  
Pietro winced. Kurt was metaphysically rubbing salt into his open wounds.   
  
"Mystique has made her mistakes. I can't deny that. But, like us she's learned from them, and the best thing we can do, if we want her to stay, is to forgive her, and give her the encouragement she needs to continue."  
  
"Butthisisdifferent," said Pietro, voice speeding up in agitation. He took a deep breath, calming down a little so that he might be understood. "Think about it. You say we all made mistakes. That's true, but we've all learned from them. I mean, I'll never abandon you or any of the others, and I know you'll never abandon us. But Mystique... every time she's had responsibility over someone, every time someone depended on her, she's run away. She did it with you, she did it with Rogue, she did it with me and Todd - fuck, she even did it to Magneto, her own boss! You never met him, but when he was alive, that was one dude you *really* didn't wanna cross. She's a better runner than I am, and I don't know about you, but I'm sort of noticing a pattern here. And I think... I think that as soon as we run out of food, or we get attacked, or things get difficult in any way, she'll be the first rat to leave the boat. That's if she doesn't actively sell us out."   
  
"Have you finished?" Kurt asked softly, his usually warm voice oddly cold.   
  
Pietro sighed. "Yeah. I guess so. If there's nothing I can do to persuade you. Just... keep an eye on her, OK? Remember what she is... what she's done. Do that and I'll try not to hate her too much. And what *is* that noise?"  
  
{Hmmmmrrrrrreeee}  
  
  
  
Clive, hidden in Robyn's arms, whimpered quietly at the vociferating young man who had definitely not been there when she fell asleep.   
  
"What noise?" After that little outburst, Kurt felt marginally annoyed. Enough not to let Pietro into the canine secret, anyway. Let him wonder about it for a bit. It would give him something else to focus on, rather than his hatred for Mystique.  
  
  
  
"Er, never mind" mumbled Pietro, wondering if he was going even more insane than usual.   
  
*******************  
  
The bus slowed, and Logan swore under his breath.   
  
"What is it?" Mystique asked sharply. "Why are we slowing down?"   
  
"N'other roadblock," he growled, a dangerous edge to his voice. "And this one don't look official, neither."   
  
She started to get up, but he waved her back down again. "Raiders?"   
  
"Could be."   
  
"The anti-mutant brigade we heard tell of?"  
  
"I ain't rulin' out the possibility."  
  
Kitty gripped hold of Hope a little tighter, and Lance encircled an arm around her back in a protective manner. "Can't we just plough on through?" he asked, but Logan shook his head.   
  
"Too many of 'em. Must be close to twenty, and they ain't lookin' too friendly, neither. Think we may've run across one of those gangs you told us about, God Boy. Leastways, I ain't never seen friendly folk carryin' that many guns n' knives before."   
  
Alvin said nothing, but he clasped his hands together and began to pray in quick, hushed sentences.   
  
Rogue clutched at her head, squeezing her eyes shut and grunting. "I can feel 'em," she whispered breathlessly. "All of 'em. I... I..."   
  
Mystique glanced between her daughter and the front windshield, and then finally decided upon the latter. Rising from her seat, she clung to the back of Logan's chair and peered out into the world ahead.   
  
"Oh, *shit*."  
  
"Aaaahh!" The air around Rogue crackled with unseen energy, and she clawed at her ears.   
  
Logan, desperate, leaned out the window. "Get outta the way! Plague! Do you idiots *want* to get sick?"   
  
One of the raggedy men clustered outside smashed a window.   
  
Kitty had instinctively covered Hope the second Mystique had vented her epithet, and now she was scared to move, lest glass hurt either of them.   
  
Another climbed in through the hole they'd made.   
  
"We don't want much," the man announced. "Just the freaks. And any women as available."   
  
His compatriot, coming up behind him, laughed.   
  
Logan stepped on the gas and made to plough through the roadblock.   
  
Three more men latched onto the bus. They were like limpets, and refused to come loose.  
  
Pietro appeared on the stairs and froze, eyes wide and staring. His mind fell backwards, regressing to that day he'd found Todd's body, and the mob that had taken him away.   
  
"Not again," he whispered to nobody in particular. "Not *again*." He almost started forward, but the sight of Mystique standing bold as brass in the aisle stopped him. "She wouldn't..."  
  
_She would,_ said his mind. _Isn't that what you've been trying to tell them? Now she's going to prove your words._  
  
Rogue screamed again, and one of the men fell as he grabbed for her arm and touched bare skin.   
  
"Freak!" said one of their number, unsheathing a knife and advancing on her. "Mutant!"  
  
The bus juddered and lurched as it conquered the debris barricade, but it didn't shake any of the brigands off.   
  
"You want a freak, boys?" said Mystique, planting herself in their way.   
  
Pietro closed his eyes. "Here we go," he murmured, and tensed himself to snatch away anybody she was willing to throw to the humans - even Logan. Now they'd see he was right. They would!  
  
Mystique snarled, and changed into the demon-monster she'd often used to scare Pietro and Todd into obeying orders. Purple armour ridged her back, neck and front, and row upon row of dazzling, snapping teeth spurted into her mouth. A long, whip-like tail burst from the base of her spine and lashed menacingly.  
  
"Here's your freak!" she snarled, voice contorting into something far more savage than any person should ever be able to make.   
  
She moved forwards. The men fell back.   
  
"You want anyone on this bus, you have to go through *me*."   
  
Like so many bullies of this world, the men trying to ravage them were cowards at heart. They took one look at this new adversary, broke, and ran, leaping off the bus. Mystique picked up their fallen comrade and threw him out the door. If he lived or not, she didn't care.   
  
Something crunched under the wheel. She didn't even acknowledge it.  
  
She resumed to her human guise and returned to her daughter. "Shhh... it's okay. It's okay. Try to relax, honey. Let the bad man go."   
  
Rogue shuddered and shivered in her arms.   
  
Pietro had frozen, staring at her as if she were a basilisk.   
  
Mystique didn't care. Not about anything. She just wanted her daughter to get better. She hadn't fought so hard, looked for so long, just to lose her now.  
  
After a while, in the aftermath, those around her began to get worried, and she sensed that worry. Yet it was divided. Rogue still claimed some of their attention, but Pietro hadn't moved a muscle - highly unusual for the jerky, action-addicted speedster.   
  
In fact, when Kurt came down to check everything was all right, he was quite alarmed at the change. Robyn, who had followed her brother down, was also concerned.   
  
"Pie-Pie?" she said softly. "What's wrong? Why are you standing so still?"   
  
To everyone's shock he answered, "I'm thinking."  
  
For a moment everyone was silent, unsure of what to say. Only Mystique and Rogue seemed oblivious to the scene. Rogue was sobbing into her mother's lap, and the shapeshifter was tending to her as only a mother can.   
  
Eventually, Pietro moved. He went slowly and purposefully towards them. "Why?" he asked.   
  
"Why what?" Mystique's voice was filled with sorrow, bitterness and terrible, terrible weariness; almost as if she held the entire world on her shoulders, yet was beyond caring anymore.  
  
  
  
"Why did you save us? Why didn't you run? That's what you've always done before. Why not now?" He leaned forward, face urgent. "I need to know."  
  
She turned, evaluating him. His eyes practically glowed with intensity, and glittered with an edge of madness. So much had been messed up in Pietro's already messed up life, the idea that she would betray him had seemed a rock; a steady point in what seemed a torrent of change, pain, and confusion.   
  
He deserved a reason for further upheaval, at least.   
  
"Because..." she replied in as steady a tone as she could manage, "because... as far as I could run away from you, and Kurt, and Rogue, I could never run away from myself. In the old days... I always had someone else. A new persona. When I... left Kurt, and Marie, and even you and Todd, I took on a new form, a new life, a new face. I acted the part of someone else in order to leave myself behind.   
  
"But when you're alone, when there's no-one left to act for, to pretend to be, then the only person you have to answer to is yourself. When Todd died I... was alone in the city. You know what that's like, don't you Pietro? All I had was myself, and I had myself to answer to, and I turned out to be my own worst enemy. I looked into a mirror and, for the first time, I saw my own face. And I hated it. I still do. I want to make things better, make them right, so that I can look at myself, my... for want of a better word, my soul, and not be repulsed by what I see. I want to at least try to make up for some of the things I've done. And I can't do that alone. Does that satisfy your question?"   
  
Pietro didn't answer. He just stared at her. Then, quick as lightening, he turned and rushed up the stairs, shouldering past both Kurt and Robyn without a backward glance.   
  
Mystique sighed soulfully, and went back to tending her daughter.   
  
Kurt watched him go, moving aside slightly so as not to be sent flying when he whooshed past. Robyn started to chase after him, but the elf caught her hand and shook his head.   
  
"Nein, Liebe."   
  
"But..." She pointed helplessly, and Kurt sighed. Pietro's sudden action had surprised them all, and there was no telling what he might do or say if Kurt let one of the little ones go up to him. Pietro had never been the most steadfast of people, after all. He might do something irrational, and Robyn could be hurt if she was caught in the crossfire. Daisy too, since she was still upstairs with Clive.   
  
Kurt's free hand tightened into a fist. Pietro might be his friend, but Robyn was his responsibility, and there was no way he was going to let her get hurt.   
  
"Kurti?"   
  
"I'll go and speak to him, Liebling. You go and sit with - " he cast about, wondering who could best shield the little mutant while she was on show down here. Kitty was preoccupied with Hope, and Lance with Kitty. Logan was driving, and Mystique was concerned with the gently juddering Rogue to the exclusion of all else. That left... "Alvin. Go sit with Alvin, poppet. He'll look after you while I go talk to Pie-Pie." _And hide you from prying eyes._  
  
Robyn looked at the zealot, and sniffed pathetically. "What about Daisy? And," she pulled him close and added in a whisper, "what about *Clive*?"   
  
Kurt patted her hand. "They'll be all right, Liebling. I promise. Now go sit with Alvin and be a good girl."   
  
Robyn seemed profoundly dubious, but did as she was bid. From somewhere in his cart Alvin produced a length of cloth that might once have been a bedspread or picnic blanket, and wrapped it around her so that her ears and other visible mutations were protected from prying eyes on the other side of the window.   
  
_Perhaps that guy is more useful to have around than I thought,_ Kurt mused, as he mounted the stairs.   
  
When he reached the second level, Pietro was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Daisy, for that matter; and Kurt, to his great chagrin, immediately thought the worst.   
  
"Daisy?" he murmured, pattering along the rows. "Daisy?"   
  
"Down here," whispered a voice, and Kurt looked down to see a small, scaly face poking out from beneath one of the seats. Daisy's eyes were wide, and next to her Clive quivered, a portion of fear having transferred itself to her. "Kurti, what happened?"   
  
"Nothing to worry about now, Blume[1]," he replied, eyes roving the other seats for telltale silver hair and failing to spot any.   
  
Daisy rubbed at her nose, which was running. "Lotta crashin' an' bashin' for nuthin'."   
  
"Ja, well, it's over now. Are you the only ones up here?"   
  
She shook her head. "Nu-uh. Pie-Pie ran to the back a coupla minutes ago, but we were hidin', so he didn't see us."   
  
As if adding her own words, Clive gave a small yip, and snuggled closer to Daisy's side.   
  
_The back of the bus._ "Blume," Kurt said softly, using the nickname he'd created for her at the last stop. "Stay under there, and whatever happens, whatever you hear - or think you hear - stay hidden. Do *not* come out, okay?"   
  
Suspicious, Daisy asked, "Why?"   
  
"Just promise me you will."   
  
She eyed him for a moment, and then slowly bobbed her head.   
  
Kurt nodded, and moved along to the furthest seating. He made no sound, bare feet smoothing along the ancient floor better than the mouse of 'The Night Before Christmas' fame.   
  
Pietro lay face down, arms folded beneath his head and turned away from the aisle. If Kurt hadn't known better he would've assumed the other boy was asleep. As it was...  
  
"Pietro?"   
  
No response.   
  
Kurt nudged one foot, which dangled unceremoniously off the end of the seat. It seemed the speed-demon had thrown himself down in the manner of a moody teenage girl and not moved since.   
  
"Pietro, I know you can hear me."   
  
"I know that you know," came the muffled reply. "Don't mean I gotta answer."   
  
Kurt sighed. "Look, we already have three little kids to look after on this trip, we don't need a fourth. Now sit up and start acting your age."   
  
That elicited a slit of blue to hove into sight. "My age? Jeez, I don't even *know* how old I am now, Fuzzy. Kinda lost track of the date when I was on my own, and all birthdays since then."   
  
Not exactly what he'd been expecting to hear, considering the words from Mystique downstairs, but Kurt folded his arms and tried to keep the makeshift conversation up long enough to figure out if Pietro was going to try anything stupid.   
  
There was no point in beating around the bush. Kurt was suspicious. Pietro, by his own admission, was insane, and insane people did crazy things. Kurt was *not* about to let anyone jeopardise this exodus. Not when so much counted on them getting to Ororo in time.   
  
"Pietro, judging by how you're acting, I'd guess you should still be in Kindergarten. I understand your feelings of Mystique, but this... this endless hostility is stupid. She's risked her life back there. One bullet and it could've all been over. And yet, you're still convinced she's - "  
  
  
  
"Nothing stays the same," Pietro interrupted, talking as if Kurt wasn't even there. "I mean, I try to change with the times, try to move fast, gotta keep busy. But everything - my family, Todd, Mystique, you - it all keeps changing too quickly. Too fast for me. And I run too fast for others. Like Todd. And they get left behind. Can't stay still, though, can't let you all run ahead. Gotta keep moving. Even if I'm the only one in the race."  
  
"You're lonely," Kurt translated. He could relate, somewhat. "You feel like you've left all the people and things you knew behind, and now you have a load of new stuff, but can't deal with it. You still feel like an outsider, ja? You can't get used to this idea of your old enemies becoming your friends, right?"  
  
Pietro shrugged. "I prefer the corpses," he confessed. "I knew what they did. They just rotted in the sun. I knew where I stood with them. The dead are much more predictable than the living, y'know."  
  
  
  
Kurt considered what to do. This was a bit out of his depth. Pietro claimed he was partly insane, but what he said made a lot of sense. How could he make him feel better? How could he make him feel more... stable, at least?  
  
Suddenly, an idea came to him. It was a little crazy in itself, but what the heck. Fight fire with fire, after all.   
  
"Ach, Pietro, this is just an adjustment. Give it a few days and you'll find your place. But you must give it a chance, meinen Bruder."  
  
Pietro did a double take. Bruder? Now there was a word he understood.  
  
"Whaddya mean, brother?" he snapped.   
  
"Well, you're Robyn's big brother Pie-Pie, aren't you?"  
  
  
  
"Er... yeah. According to her, anyway."   
  
"And Robyn is my little sister, right?"  
  
"Uh..."  
  
"So I'm your brother." Then, he added tentatively, "And that makes Mystique your mother... after a fashion."  
  
  
  
Pietro's brow crumpled with thought.   
  
"It makes her seem different now, ja? But in a way, she could be your mother. We have no-one else, Pietro, we have to stick together. We're a family now - all of us on this bus. In a way, we always have been, it's just that we let our petty differences draw us apart. We can't do that now. It's your choice, Pietro. Be with us, part of the family, or not. Your decision."  
  
"Mystique... my new mother," murmured Pietro softly. _Great! As if my family wasn't screwed up enough already._  
  
"Well... what's your choice?"  
  
"I can't suddenly start loving her, Kurt. But I can tolerate her. Maybe one day, I might be able to care for her, to trust her. But not yet. Right now, I can only offer a truce. Is that enough for you?"  
  
Kurt nodded, feeling relieved, and stretched out a hand to help the other boy up. "Not just for me, for all of us. For her. For you."  
  
One respective pothole in their road to paradise seemed to have been smoothed over, but there were probably still plenty left.   
  
"Oooooow, oooowoooo."   
  
Daisy clamped a hand over Clive's mouth. This, of course, did nothing to inhibit the sounds coming from the back of her little throat.   
  
"What *is* that?" Pietro demanded, sitting up on his own.   
  
"What?" Kurt asked innocently.   
  
"That noise." Pietro tilted his head this way and that, trying to triangulate the source. "Don't tell me you don't hear it."   
  
"Uh..."   
  
"Weren't you just lecturing me on trusting people?" The speedster stood and paced slowly up the aisle. "Now is *not* a good time to lie."   
  
Kurt sighed. "Don't tell anyone?"   
  
"What is it?" Pietro asked suspiciously. "Another kid?"   
  
"It's a puppy."   
  
"Kurti!" Daisy poked her head out from under the bench. "You promised you wouldn't tell!"   
  
Kurt raised his hands in the universal gesture for surrender. "I couldn't let Pie-Pie go crazier than he already is, Blume."  
  
"Yeah, he - hey!"   
  
"And that's my cue to exit!" Kurt made a break for the stairs, with Pietro in hot pursuit.  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Flower 


	17. Plan

A/N ~ Pertaining to Pietro's insanity, I get the feeling that he's a hairsbreadth away from being actually insane, after living so long in dead Bayville. Since that ordeal, he has the potential to tip over the edge, and was probably in the process of doing so when Kurt and Robyn found him, but hadn't fallen all the way yet. They pulled him back. However, you know Pietro - he's jumped the gun again, and has declared himself actually insane because of how close he was.  
  
And now we come onto the second part of my notes. Scott, I usually apologise when something I write upsets people or suchlike. But not in this case. And this is for the simple reason that I'm not sorry at all.   
  
_Judgment Day_ is a collectively written fanfic, and therefore can get rather scattershot at times owing to the different minds at work on it all at once. When people introduce a new character or characters, I can't very well say "No, you can't do that!" because when I uploaded it as an 'interfic' I effectively gave up a lot of my claim to the structure of the piece. However, as I've stated before, all plot-threads are carried through to their natural conclusion. Just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean that it's not going to. I'm glad that you liked the whole section set in Bayville, but the fic couldn't stay there. It wasn't feasible, it wasn't believable, and frankly, it would have become boring as hell after a while. There's only so much you can do with a dead cityscape and the three people you pointed out.   
  
'You're adding upwards of a character a chapter, in what's quickly turning into a farce. All believable interaction has been thrown out the window, as everyone gets all cutesy with each other. What happened to the early introspective brilliance of Kurt and Pietro? The dark and sombre mood that captured the readers' attentions? The subtle little group dynamics that were beginning to form in the survivors?' - A farce, you say? Hmm, you really must show me what copy of the dictionary you're using. My Webster's defines it thusly; 'A low style of comedy; a dramatic composition marked by low humour, generally written with little regard to regularity or method, and abounding with ludicrous incidents and expressions.'   
  
Now, how the heck did you understand JD to be a comedy, or hinging on low humour?   
  
Believable character interaction. Tell you what, go sit in an apocalyptic landscape for four years, come back, and tell me how you feel. We all work to the best of our knowledge, and, in the case of not knowing how a person would react to something, we wing it. We make it up. And as for things getting 'cutesy', I'd describe the end of Chapter Sixteen as light-hearted rather than 'cute'. Even in the midst of crisis, people make jokes. They try to make personal connections. It's a coping mechanism you'll find in any good psychology textbook. I'd call having the world fall to bits around you a pretty big crisis.  
  
XME canon is, was, and will always be a large cast simply because of the subject matter on which it is based. Since JD is set in a time when half the original cast weren't present, I see no reason why making up the numbers after 10+ chapters is a necessarily negative thing. Also, since it's set spanning an entire country, changing location was always going to be a given.  
  
'All we have now is the CONSTANT repetitive drivel regarding how 'guilty' Kurt is, 'insane' Pietro is, and the contrived antagonism between Mystique and him that you've tried to shove down our throats for the last four chapters. Okay... we get it! You're hands very close to exploding out the other end! At the rate this is going you'll end up with a cast of sixty or so cardboard characters, that merely switch talking partner's every couple of scenes, to reassure and commiserate with each other while NOTHING BLOODY HAPPENS' - Excuse me, but are you precognitive? Can you see the future? Do you know what is going to happen three, four, even ten chapters down the line? I find it quite offensive when people take the view that they know where something is going without seeing it first. Cliché is something we were all trying to avoid when we wrote this, and, as a result of this events are quite disjointed to begin with. The idea was to keep readers guessing what was going to happen next without spelling things out too early and too simply. I'm going to contradict myself now and apologise if attempting this has upset you. I can't help it if you feel the need to flame without getting your facts straight first.  
  
If it's not too much bother, I'd like to ask what other people thought about this reviewer and review. He makes several points that I thought would be made when I chopped JD up into chapters, so I was prepared for some of them, but it would be nice to know whether anyone else agrees with him. I can't change what happens, as the fic's already written in its entirety. I'm just posting what I have. But I promise I will read any comments - good or bad - that people choose to make.   
  
Thank you.  
  
*******************  
  
Seventeenth Fragment: Plan  
  
*******************  
  
She slept for an extra half-hour before someone woke her.   
  
"Goddess? It's time for your afternoon meal. It's boiled ham and vegetables..."   
  
Her attendants helped her sit up. Someone gave her milk to drink. It tasted goat-y. "The farms have been prosperous?" she asked between mouthfuls.  
  
"Yes, Goddess. And the children insisted you have some milk, too."   
  
_Bless them,_ Ororo smiled. "Thank you. Does Seer have any more news?"   
  
"None, alas. He's poring over his own words, trying to divine a meaning."   
  
"And my scouts? The missionaries?"   
  
A pause. Then; "None have returned."   
  
Ororo sighed as she ate. Had she sent them *all* to their deaths? Many of them had been more than her followers, they had been her friends. Yet they'd been clamouring to tend to the task...   
  
The attendant rubbed her shoulder, trying to ease the visible tension in her chosen 'deity'. "Fear not, Goddess. They go because they love you."   
  
"I don't want them to go. I don't want them to die," Ororo said sadly, tears of frustration gathering in her eyes.  
  
"We know, Goddess; but we must seek out the Blessed and tell them of your paradise."   
  
"And the raiders?"   
  
"None today. We've fortified our borders some. Bill made some sentry towers, and those good at heights volunteer to keep watch. We have minute-men all along the boundary."   
  
At least her people would be safe. Small mercies were all she could hope for until her microclimate was done. "And the sky? Did it go dark while I slept?"   
  
This time, her attendant smiled. "No, Goddess. The sun still shone on your beloved plants."   
  
Ororo sighed with relief. "Good," she murmured. "It's working."   
  
It was getting easier, little by little. The real equation was whether it could look after itself before the effort made her collapse.   
  
But she had to. This was all she had left, this place, this home she had made for herself and those leftover from the terrible war. She couldn't let it go to seed just because she was a little fatigued. She owed her people that much. She owed the memory of those she'd left dead in Bayville that much.  
  
Huh, go to seed...  
  
She could keep going, one day at a time.  
  
*******************  
  
"Hey, Pretty-Kitty," drawled Lance, plonking himself heavily on to the seat beside her, then drawing an arm around her and kissing her forehead.   
  
"What's this in aid of?" asked Kitty, grinning. "You're not a touchy-feely person."   
  
"Heh, I just can't help myself with you."   
  
"Flatterer. And what's with this 'Pretty-Kitty?' You haven't called me that for years."   
  
"You say flatterer like it's a bad thing, Kit," he breathed into her ear, before pulling back and adding, "I like the shades, by the way." One of Pietro's many scavenging trips had turned up a pair of newer reflective shades, which were, in Pietro's opinion, probably the coolest things ever made. Of course, that had been Pietro's opinion of more or less everything he liked.   
  
"Thanks. I can't really tell, you know," she said, drawing back a little.   
  
Lance sighed. "You know I don't mean to rub it in. Christ, Kit, I've known you since we were practically wearing diapers. Speaking of which, where's Hope?"   
  
"Oh, Raven offered to look after her while she slept. Nice of her, I thought."   
  
"Raven? Oh, y'mean Mystique. Real nice. So how'd you get her to go to sleep?"   
  
"Practice, Lance."   
  
A lull fell upon the conversation then, interrupted a few seconds later by another sigh from Lance followed by a gruff mumble. "I love you, y'know."   
  
"Lance! Of course I know!"   
  
"It's just that - I mean, we never seem to talk about much of anything important. I've never really... never really found it easy to talk about how I feel about... about anything, really. Let alone you. But, Kit, I really do love you. And I thought - well, I thought you oughta know that."   
  
Kitty was taken aback somewhat. Lance was not a particularly talkative person. Even back in Deerfield, he hadn't really said much about anything, and the events of four years ago hadn't done much to make him more open. "I love you, as well. Heck, we're practically husband and wife, you know."   
  
"Practically. And I don't see us finding a minister any time soon."   
  
"Heh, or a rabbi."   
  
"I don't care how religious you are, Pryde," Lance said with mock-dignity, "I am not wearing a skullcap at our wedding. It would just *so* clash with my hair." The hair in question had in fact been cut only about twice the whole time, and both of those were just rough sawings with the sharpest knife to hand, since barbers were rather thin on the ground.   
  
"You prima donna," Kitty teased. She paused, then said, "So what brought on this sudden change to a New Age, sensitive guy?"   
  
"If you ever call me that again, Hope will be left without a mother," he deadpanned. "But... it's just that... we hardly talk, Kit. I mean, we have a kid! I'm a dad - oh shit, I'm a fucking dad. Holy Christ. And... and... I have no fucking clue what I'm saying, here, I hope you appreciate that - I just didn't want you to think I was ignoring you."   
  
"Aww, you big snuggly romantic. I never thought that. We've spent a quarter of our lives together." A pause. "Okay, so that's not an awful lot of time, but still. C'mere." She rested her head on Lance's shoulder and closed her eyes.   
  
Lance kissed the top of her head and lay his own on top of hers. A contended sigh passed his lips, and they remained that way for several minutes as the bus jolted along. Finally:  
  
"Lance?"   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"You know there's like, way more guys than girls."   
  
"Yeah..."   
  
"Well... you know. The survival thing... I mean. Monogamy is like, not so good any more."   
  
He blinked, not understanding. "You telling me I should fuck around?"   
  
Ah, Lance. Always the hammer. Kitty smiled in spite of herself. "I was thinking more like multiple husbands. Kinda."   
  
A note of indignation crept into his voice. "*You* wanna fuck around? Who *with*? The old guy, the nutso, God Boy or the freakshow?"   
  
Kitty sighed. She should have known he'd overreact. "Lance..."   
  
"Or are you fucking around already?"   
  
"Are you *kidding*? I'm like, barely over labour, okay? I need a running start to *think* a sexy thought. Settle *down*. I didn't expect you to be a jerk about this." She escaped his arms and folded hers. "It's a *survival* thing. And there's, like, nothing against it in the scripture, either."   
  
Lance sort-of growled, and said in his most protective voice, "I don't want you whoring around. It's dangerous."   
  
"*La-ance*! It's not *like* that. You ever hear of genetic diversity? We kinda need that right now. Just like we need more people."   
  
Lance harrumphed. He obviously wasn't convinced. In some small way that she couldn't explain, that pleased Kitty.  
  
"You talked me into having Hope with you," she said soothingly, "and I wouldn't change it for anything, okay? I'm not dumping you."   
  
"Why not?" he said, a trifle petulantly. "I'm not useful any more."   
  
_Oh *shit*..._ "Of course you're useful, Lance - "   
  
"At *what*? Freakshow's teaching you to do things by yourself. Pops is driving. Miss Thing up the back is looking after Hope... I mean..." He rubbed at the back of his neck, uncomfortable with airing his dirty laundry like this. "What's left for me to do? What am I good for anymore? You don't need me..."   
  
"Aaawww... Lance..." Kitty moved back to holding him. "You can pass. That's useful. You can help defend us. Scout for hiding places. Scout for stores to raid, even. And you can, like, learn to do all sorts of other valuable things."   
  
Lance tensed, and then kissed her forehead. "Sorry. Sorry... Hell, gimme a day and I'll be *begging* God Boy to teach me how to knit."   
  
Kitty giggled. Big, brave, burly Lance knitting booties and mittens for Hope. She could just see it in her mind's eye. "Sure. And you can tell stories to the girls, too. Stories about the brave mutant who struck out across the country to protect his young family, and once fought off an entire gang single-handed."   
  
Lance sighed. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me, you know," he said candidly, letting his arms rest about her shoulders in a display of affection that would have been inconceivable four years ago. "I think I'm in my rights to be shit scared of losing you."   
  
"You won't," Kitty promised. "I'll still be here."   
  
They cuddled for a while.   
  
"So?" he asked at last.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Who are you thinking of for Hubbie Number Two?"   
  
"*La-ance* -"   
  
"It's an honest question. You don't want me popping the guy out if I see him touching you, do you?"   
  
Kitty swatted him playfully on the arm. "I was... I was thinking about Kurt, actually."   
  
"Freakshow? Kitty, do you have any idea what he looks like?"   
  
"Tall, fuzzy and demonic; yeah. He mentioned it." He'd also mentioned his colourful past, and some of his shame. But she chose not to talk about that. "It doesn't matter. He's good people. Inside. Where it counts."   
  
Lance had gone quiet and stiff. She felt his muscles tighten beneath her fingertips.  
  
"Lance?"   
  
"Just... thinking about stuff," he said ambiguously. "It's okay, honey." He planted a kiss on the top of her head again, like he was getting in all the affection he could before it was too late.   
  
And she held him closer than before.  
  
*******************  
  
It was getting to be late in the day, and they were passing through the pale imitation of countryside that passed for modern day Iowa. And given what Iowa was like *before* it became a pale imitation of itself, that was saying something.   
  
Logan was sat in the driver's seat, clutching the wheel tightly in his hands and a matchstick tightly in his teeth. Mystique moved up behind him quietly, having deposited Hope back with her parents over an hour ago.   
  
"Raven," he said in bare acknowledgement, not taking his eyes from the windscreen.   
  
"How do you do that, Logan?"   
  
"Do what?"   
  
"Tell when someone wants to talk to you."   
  
He snorted. "Not just a pretty face, darlin'."   
  
Mystique muttered something dryly.   
  
"What was that?" asked Logan, smirking.   
  
"I said, not *even* a pretty face."   
  
He barked a sharp laugh, then immediately set his face back into its original expressionless rictus. "You wanna keep an eye out, Raven?"   
  
She arched an eyebrow. "For anything in particular, or just in general?"   
  
"That," he said, pointing at a glow that was visible over the rolling hills and bare ripple of river on the horizon, "is Des Moines."   
  
Mystique stared at him incredulously, since her eyesight was nowhere near good enough to see what he saw. "That's *it*? You made it sound like it was something of incredible importance. You sounded like you were going to say 'Zat iss ... ze *castle*...'"   
  
"I ain't no superstitious peasant, darlin'. And I ain't from Transylvania." He paused for thought. "Probably."   
  
"So what's your point?"   
  
"I keep my ears open. Des Moines's supposed to be abandoned totally. This part of the world got hit bad by the virus."   
  
She frowned. Fond of that thought, she was not. "How bad?"   
  
"Bad. Bad enough to make folk for miles around it savage as that ruckus back there. Now, you wanna stop askin' questions and take a look out the top of the bus?"   
  
Mystique looked at the back of his head. He still hadn't moved his eyes from the road, almost invisible to those with normal eyesight. She'd thought to approach him for conversation, since they'd spoken little and in no real depth since her proposal back at the airfield. Yet he blanked her, smalltalk all he was willing to offer.  
  
"Very well," she said coldly, and took the stairs quickly.   
  
Nothing was visible from the windows on the upper floor of the bus, and, at her sudden appearance, Kurt and Pietro abandoned their posts as babysitters and descended the stairs.  
  
*******************  
  
Grasshopper was in a foul temper. "Scry, do you have *any* idea who it is?"   
  
" ... no. Sorry." Scry ran a hand through his hair, sighing with exertion.  
  
"Christ, I hate clairvoyants."   
  
"..."   
  
"Uh, no offence."   
  
"None taken, I'm sure."   
  
His leader ruffled gossamer wings and folded his arms with a grumpy snort. " ... sorry I *spoke* ... "   
  
A ghostly shape stole up behind them, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid form with a whisper akin to a dying breath. "I can't tell who it is either."   
  
Scry jumped, rounding on the newcomer. "*Gah!* Crap, Sneak, give a guy some warning?"   
  
"Quiet, you two!"   
  
" ... sorry, Grasshopper ... "   
  
"And stop apologising all the time!"   
  
" ... sorry, Gr - um ... "   
  
Grasshopper sighed and counted to ten. "Sneak, you were saying?"   
  
"I was able to get close to the vehicle; but the fainter I make myself to others, the fainter things become to me. I was unable to get sufficiently close with sufficient coherence to obtain any specific information. It is my opinion, however, that they are not specifically here to raid Mutie Town. As a matter of fact, I believe they may be unaware of -"   
  
A growl. "Conciseness, Sneak. Work on it."   
  
"Yes, Grasshopper."   
  
"What *is* this, the army or something?"   
  
Scry sniffed at Sneak. "We could be fighting. We need to be organised."   
  
The spy rolled his dead-looking eyes, greasy pale hair flopping over one shoulder. "*Whad*evah."   
  
"And respectful."   
  
"Mmm ... no. Up yours."   
  
Grasshopper buried his head in his arms. "Sweet Lord, give me strength..."   
  
*******************  
  
"Siddown," Logan ordered as Kurt and Pietro hopped off the stairs. At his word, the two boys dutifully and wordlessly found seats.   
  
"What time is it?" Kitty murmured.   
  
"Starting to get dark," Lance replied.   
  
Robyn poked Kurti from beneath her blanket. "Where's you-know-who?"   
  
"Daisy's still upstairs," he said, adding a slight tilt of his head to indicate that the real object of her question was there too. "Why don't you go play?"   
  
The cat-girl took the hint and went, blanket still clutched possessively around her.   
  
Kurt watched her leave and then turned. Something had been weighing on his mind for a bit, and he voiced his concern now. "Herr Alvin, are there prophecies for the girls?"   
  
The Devoted One looked up from another volume in his seemingly endless collection of tomes. "No. Not specifically, at least."   
  
Kurt sighed with relief. He didn't like the idea of young children being bound by vague statements from who-knew-where.   
  
"There's no need to be so secretive, Elf." Logan's voice startled him.  
  
"Entschuldigung?"  
  
A hand left the wheel to point up the stairs where Robyn had gone. "Don't play dumb; it don't suit ya. You're talkin' to the best nose this side of anywhere, remember? How long did you think you could keep the thing hidden with this schnozz around?"  
  
Kurt, never the dull gem, lowered his eyes culpably. "Long enough. Daisy found it," he said, hoping to play on Logan's attachment to the little girl. "She was afraid people would eat it if we left it behind, and afraid *we'd* eat it if she told what she'd done."  
  
"Only her?"  
  
"What *they'd* done, then. Ja, Robyn kept it from me, too. I found it by accident. It's no harm - really."  
  
"What's no harm?" Kitty's proverbial ears pricked up, and those not already in the know looked at Kurt, who bowed his head.   
  
"Uh, we have a new member of our little party."  
  
"We do?" Lance frowned. "Oh great. And why weren't we told?"  
  
"Because she has four legs, a tail, and goes 'woof -woof'."  
  
Lance blinked, then threw up his hands. "Oh marvellous. Fan-frikkin'-tastic! I'm starting to wish I was riding back in the jeep. It's less crowded there."  
  
*******************  
  
"Look out!"   
  
Spider-Man dropped into an immediate crouch and felt the bullets whiz by his head. In the next two moments he had fired off a couple web blasts, stopping the guards cold, and rolled into the next hallway where Dazzler and Wolfsbane waited. The three Multiples dodged in after him, then stood in a daze for a moment and collapsed.   
  
"Multiple! Stop the simulation, something's wrong with Multiple!" Spider-Man shouted, trying to go back for the fallen trio.   
  
"Complete the objective, then the simulation will end," came the disembodied reply.   
  
The group heard footsteps approaching, and then fading into nothingness. Dazzler had a look of intense concentration on her glowing face, and created a light barrier from the sound of the charging soldiers.   
  
Spider-Man frowned, but followed orders. "Dazzler, stay here and protect Multiple. Wolfsbane, come with me - we've got a mutant to rescue."   
  
Dazzler sent a quick thumbs-up, and Wolfsbane just nodded.   
  
The scantily clad werewolf bounded down the hallway at full speed, while the new team leader followed from the ceiling.   
  
Two platoons of armed soldiers appeared at the end of the hallway, blocking the door to the team's final destination. Wolfsbane leapt into them with full abandon, slashing, clawing, biting, and tearing apart anything in her way.   
  
Spider-Man watched from above for a few moments, until the fray slowly worked its way down a side passage.   
  
Peter breathed a sigh of relief under his mask, flipped down to the floor and cracked open the door. Inside, a girl was bound to a chair, her long red hair draped over her face.   
  
"MJ...?"A hint of nervousness crept into his voice. He blinked, then saw that her hair was black, that this wasn't MJ, couldn't be her... the half-lidded memory flitted away as swiftly as it had come, just like all the others he had haltingly recovered since awakening up here.  
  
She looked up, and a siren sounded.   
  
Both scene and holographic girl faded from view, and Magneto floated down among his Acolytes.   
  
With precise steps, the Master of Magnetism approached the fallen Multiple. The three had managed to get themselves into a sitting position and turned to face the armoured man.   
  
"They found another one, Magneto," one said.   
  
"They killed him," said the second.   
  
"I'm sorry," apologised the last.   
  
Peter took off his mask. "Killed who? What're they talking about?"   
  
"Multiple has a connection with each of his clones. He feels when one dies, even as far away as space," Magneto replied tersely.   
  
"But you said that these three were the last ones you could rescue!"   
  
"These were the last three of the ones I rescued, yes. However, many of them were still on Earth. I could not find them all. Multiple cannot reabsorb his clones from such a distance."   
  
Peter looked at the triplets, brow creasing. "How... how *many* are left... down there?"   
  
"Maybe fifteen."   
  
"Maybe twenty."   
  
"Maybe none, now," came the strange, disjointed reply.   
  
Peter looked over the rest of his team. His team... how strange that he should already be referring to them as that after such a short amount of time in their company.   
  
Dazzler stood in the corner, light motes floating around her. Wolfsbane was licking her wounds. However fake the scenario, Magneto didn't believe in cutting his newly named 'Acolytes' any slack as far as injuries were concerned. Education via pain. And how.   
  
Peter shook his head. "Why aren't we down there saving the rest? Why are we still up here doing nothing but... this?"   
  
"You are not ready," said Magneto, and turned on his heel. The metal doors on both sides of the room opened. He walked through the northern exit, and it closed behind him before Peter had chance to voice another word.   
  
He never once mentioned where he was going. He rarely did to anyone.   
  
The south exit remained open for the Acolytes to return to the living quarters.   
  
Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Dazzler offered him a sad smile and a message written in light.   
  
It'll be all right, Spider-Man. We'll rescue them all when we're ready.   
  
"Yeah, whatever. I'm going to my room." He stalked off, hoping he could find that drab little area he was to call his own again and leaving his teammates behind.   
  
"What's his problem?" Wolfsbane asked with a deep, throaty laugh. Dazzler shivered at the sound of it. "We'll get to kill some humans soon enough. Dish best eaten cold, right?"   
  
*******************  
  
"Can't fix anymore," said a child.   
  
"Will she wake?" said a man.   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Good. You may go rest, now. And make sure you eat your fill, hmm?"   
  
Meggan opened her eyes in time to see a five-year-old angel nod. The cherub had no wings, but she looked as if she could easily gain them at the chime of a bell [1]. Her eyes were a startling emerald green that appeared to shine within, and her pale blonde, curly hair hung around her face like a halo. The only flaw - if such a word could describe her - was that she was missing her pinkie fingers and, Meggan saw when a foot peeked out of her simple shift, the littlest toes.   
  
"Her name is Jane," said the man in the shadows, watching her pad softly from the room. "I found her wandering the remains of a Weapon X laboratory two years ago. She manipulates time and spiritual energies in order to heal. She doesn't talk very much. More than she used to, but still... Trauma. You see, as well as being a healer, Jane is an empath. Like you."   
  
Meggan could feel her body trying to sparkle, to change herself to the desires of the man. But her flesh remained solid.   
  
"You won't be able to shapeshift for a while, Meggan," said the man. "For your own safety, you're wearing an inhibitor."   
  
"Who *are* you?" she asked. "How do you know me?" The room was dimly lit and the man was far away. She could see white hair, and a muscular build, but little more.   
  
"My name is Magne... Erik," he said. "Do you remember the mob?"   
  
"I... remember being... wanted," she said. "There were too many people... all wanting me. I - I couldn't change to suit them all... And then they were angry..." She shook her head. "The rest is kind of blurry. I'm sorry."   
  
"You changed to reflect their anger," Erik explained. "And you became a monster. Had I not been there to arrest the bullets, you would surely have died."   
  
"Um, thank you," she said, only half-understanding what he said.   
  
"Thanks are not necessary," said Erik. "I'm just... doing what I can to salvage what's left. The war was fought and lost by both sides. We all lost friends and family. One way or another."   
  
Meggan tried to get up, and found her legs weak and her strength almost gone. "I can't feel the Earth. Is it the inhibitor?"   
  
"No, my dear. Your empathy and link to the Earth are unharmed. You can't feel the Earth because you're no longer *on* it. This is Asteroid M - a sanctuary for Mutantkind. Or the parts of Mutantkind that I could salvage."   
  
He moved into the thin light. He was an old man, worn spiritually thin by watching all he loved erode under the tides of hate.   
  
"It's a small effort. I could have done more. So much more."   
  
He was so *sad*.   
  
"I could have saved them. Saved them all. But I waited too long for a sign of surrender from a dreamer - who dreams forever, now. He died for what he believed in. So did his followers." Erik's voice dropped to a whisper. "I could have saved them all."   
  
Meggan began to weep for him. Then her eyes picked out the strange things in the room with her.   
  
A hand, its palm pierced by rope, floating in a bubbling jar. Part of someone's foot, the three remaining toes painted red, in a similar container. A green tongue, seemingly longer than humanly possible. A human ear. All in distinct containers that bubbled.   
  
"Don't be alarmed, my dear," said Erik, following her gaze. "They were dead long before I took the parts. Killed by intolerance. Not me. Think of it as a bank. A potential for a second life."   
  
There were speaky-words on each jar. Meggan could recognise that much, but couldn't decipher their meaning. She had never learned to read back home, though she knew the dark marks meant something more. "Please? What do the words say?"   
  
Erik startled. "I should have guessed. No matter. We can fix that. These are names of the dear departed. Names that they'll use again when I have completed the technology to give them a second life. A better life." He walked over to the hand. "Scott Summers," he said, pointing to the words. "Someone was wearing his still-bleeding hand as a *charm* against mutant attack. He thought he was invulnerable. I relieved him of both the notion and the charm. I collected the others from their graves. At least they *got* graves. My prayers go to the kind soul who let them have a decent burial..."   
  
The sadness, almost palpable... Meggan quivered with the need to shapeshift to reflect that anguish and give him comfort, but found again that she could not. It was liberating, not being governed by the emotions of others, but still... she was deeply, deeply troubled at the sudden weakness infusing her body. She didn't feel whole without her powers.  
  
Erik pointed to the words by the foot. "Jean Grey. They'd mutilated her, so collecting this sample wasn't so hard..." The ear. "Charles..." He stopped, and his voice broke with grief, a fist tightening by his side. "Charles Xavier. My oldest and dearest friend." Then the tongue. "And Todd Tolensky. My first real student. Always such a blabbermouth. Fitting that he shall be reborn from his own tongue. He'll find a better father in me than his biological one. And - I hope - a better mother in you."   
  
"*ME*?" Meggan gasped, what little strength she had leaving her in a rush. "Why me?"   
  
"Your gift, my dear. You can change yourself, alter your body so than any child you bear will be perfectly safe. There will be no risk... and my efforts with artificial environments have been... tragic, despite outside help."   
  
It dawned on Meggan that she owed her life to a madman.   
  
"I won't force you, my dear. I won't make you a brood-mare. All I ask is that you consider it. Help me to help them?"   
  
Meggan crept slightly away from him, scared. "And if I don't want to?"   
  
"Then I'll be forced to continue my efforts with the artificial wombs. And bear the brunt of every tragedy that comes." He sighed, and turned tired eyes to her. "Don't worry, Meggan. I won't impose my struggle onto you should you not wish it. Rest now. I'll bring food for you."  
  
He slunk from the room, leaving Meggan not knowing what to think at all. Or, for the first time since she could remember, what to feel.  
  
"Me...?"  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] _It's A Wonderful Life_ side-fling. 


	18. Fade

A/N ~ Many thanks to everyone for the support and comments. I hate ranting, so I try to stay away from it where I can, but it's nice to know I didn't drive everyone away by going off on one like that. So a big thank you to Makura Koneko, Ambrosia (I was wondering where you went; glad to see you're still with us ^_^ ), UnknownSource, Krazy Xanadu, Yma, Remedy=Chill and *B. May the Good Luck Bunny knock at your doors.   
  
*******************  
  
Eighteenth Fragment ~ Fade  
  
*******************  
  
"Water," Ariel called tiredly. "Clean water for trade."   
  
The morning crowd had gone, and it was raining. That was bad for business. On wet days people set out all their pots and pans and took the water for free. There was generally quite a bit of bucket stealing, too. In the end, a lot of perfectly good water wound up sloshed across the street.   
  
Well, he would pick that up later, and demand food or money for it. In the meantime, he had to defend his barrels against over-zealous thieves.  
  
He looked dolefully at the wet streets... and suddenly had an idea. He'd found a *lot* of basements in his searches for clean containers, empty of anything remotely valuable, and still watertight.   
  
He sat on a stoop, his barrow parked nearby, and appeared to watch the water flow. What none could tell was that he was caching rainwater in basements for later, when the supplies of water would be low. And, should any find his caches, they wouldn't blame him for doing so. It'd just appear that the water had found its way in there.   
  
It never hurt to invest.  
  
*******************  
  
She was obviously insane. You just needed to look in her eyes to see that. Grasshopper wasn't too worried though. She could recover. Jubilee, rescued from a human-forced brothel, had been a broken wreck when she first arrived. Now she was one of their most powerful, passionate priestesses.   
  
The new girl, who had introduced herself as Wanda, had been found wandering the wastes, muttering and dancing, heedless of her dehydrated condition and the rabid bands of humans that stalked the area.   
  
The green crackles around her fingers had betrayed her mutancy, and one of the scouts had brought her in before being dispatched again. Now she walked by Scry's side, softly humming to herself.   
  
"You'll like it here," Scry had started to say. "We're well stocked on supplies. We look after ourselves well, and this place is full of mutants."  
  
"We don't let no humans in, 'cept for those Goddess people. They're harmless enough," Grasshopper added, pausing for them to catch up to his long stride.  
  
"Tra la la, tra la la la..." Wanda crooned some forgotten tune, unmindful and blank. She smiled at the empty, smashed in windows they passed like old friends.  
  
"Don't worry about feeling alone, you're not the only new mutant here. Or you won't be soon, at any rate." Grasshopper tipped his head. "Scry here recently detected another mutant in a town not too far away. One who can move water. We'll be approaching him soon to join us. Then you'll have company."  
  
"Tra, la, la, la, tra la la la, tra la la, tra la la la!" she half-sang, half-giggled, and pounced on a dust mote.  
  
  
  
Grasshopper and Scry exchanged glances. "So..." Grasshopper continued, trying desperately to make some sort of coherent conversation, "what's your power? Scry couldn't make it out."   
  
This seemed to spark some sort interest. "I'm a coin spinner," she replied. "I dance with dice and read the cards. I'm one with Lady Luck."  
  
Both Scry and Grasshopper stopped in their tracks.   
  
"Lady Luck!" gasped Scry, and put a hand to his forehead as his powers kicked in unannounced. "The prophecy! She's... she's the one. She's the *one*!"  
  
  
  
Grasshopper usually wasn't one to let emotion cloud his tone or judgement, but Scry's excited urgency was catching. "Tell me, do you have a brother?" he asked, nearly breathless.  
  
  
  
Wanda only smiled. A diamond smile, like a cat. "Mmm-hmm. My little Pie-Pie, fast as a white lie, not very shy." She giggled again, high and mocking. "Think I'll tear out his eye..."  
  
"Oh great Earth God!" cried Scry in exultation. He always was one for pomp. "Oh mover of the poles, it's *her*, child of the God!"  
  
Grasshopper looked at him, caught the pointed glance, and sighed. He bent down on one knee, begrudgingly making a show of offering himself to her and speaking the words he knew were expected of him. By Scry, anyway. "My Lady," he said, "we've waited many years for this. We knew you'd come. We knew the prophecies spoke true. But come, please, we must show you our," he near choked on the word, "our faith."  
  
  
  
Wanda, even if she had been sane, would probably not have understood what was going on. As it was she was totally confused, but happy to be led around for now.   
  
So it was that Grasshopper and Scry took her to the centre of Mutie Town, to where their makeshift temple sat, located there by their own brand of zealots. It had been the local church once, and most of the tall, stained glass windows were still whole and intact. They glittered down, welcoming the trio in through the large wooden doors. And there, Wanda was introduced to self-titled High Priestess Jubilation.   
  
She was dressed in crimson robes, black hair pushed back with a symbolic headpiece. It had been cut short during her time in the brothel, to keep patrons from having anything to grab onto, but now was growing out a little. On her back she carried a book, a conglomerate work containing the complete prophecies of Scry and the one the Goddess' people called 'Seer'; collected from the tomes the wanderers carried in their carts.   
  
Scry ran ahead to forewarn her of Wanda's coming.   
  
When Wanda and Grasshopper arrived, the young priestess fell to her knees.   
  
"Lady Luck meets Brother Time," she intoned strangely. "And may I, as a humble servant of He who Rides on the Earth's Essence, humbly greet you."  
  
Wanda did not have a generally quick mind; her insanity seemed to fuzz most things out. But her thoughts were incredibly sharp when it came to some subjects. The mentioning of her brother brought it to crystal clarity. She cast around, drinking in the strange sights, smells, and words. Suspicions were forming about these people, as were ideas...   
  
As were plans.   
  
And in the mind of a maniac, that's rarely a good thing.   
  
"Where shall I meet Brother Time?" she cooed in her sweetest tones.   
  
Eager to show off her great knowledge of the prophecies, Jubilee said, "At the place where earth, sky and water meet, and there all shall be engulfed by fire."  
  
  
  
"And when shall this be?"  
  
"Soon... many of the other prophecies and signs have already come to pass. Soon the time shall come when the Lord of Earth and Lady of Sky shall meet, and bring their two worlds together. Then shall hope begin life afresh."  
  
Lady of Sky? Wanda neither knew nor cared for that name. But the other... "Who is the Lord of Earth?"  
  
"Ah," sighed the fanatic, only a little disappointed that Wanda hadn't already figured out to whom they were referring, given her lineage. "I was hoping you'd ask me that. But why simply tell you? Come with me, and I'll *show* him to you."   
  
Wanda followed meekly. They passed through another set of wooden doors and into the enormous hall beyond. And there, she saw something that made her blood hot like fire.   
  
At the end of the hall, carved intricately with a combination of mutant powers and tools, was a mighty statue. A man, resplendent in a helmet and cloak. He had strong cheekbones and fierce eyes, visible even from this distance.  
  
  
  
"Behold!" cried Jubilee. "Our Lord of Earth, our saviour - Magneto, Master of Magnetism. Soon, when Luck and Time have fought between the elements, soon he shall come. He shall come with those he saved and he shall take us as his children also to a better place! And the world that has been shattered shall be made whole by him, in his image, and all humans shall perish for the rise of a new age! The dawn of Mutantkind's - "   
  
Wanda's eyes clouded, and in that instant she saw red. "Fools!" she spat, cutting Jubilee off rudely. "Magneto, a saviour? He's death. He's betrayal. I know him better than any of you idiots! He'll use and abandon you, just like he did me. And just like I will you!"  
  
With that, she grabbed the book off Jubilee's back, tearing at the strong halter keeping it in place. Her fingertips glowed green as a hex-bolt sputtered and flew, severing the leather. Jubilee screamed and fell, a large bloody hole in her chest.   
  
Wanda turned and swiped her powers at the mammoth statue, quickly reducing it to rubble.   
  
Finally, she turned to Grasshopper and Scry, both struck dumb by the power and swiftness of her attack.   
  
"I want fast transport," she hissed, brandishing glowing fingers. "Give it to me now, and I'll leave you be. Don't, and I'll reduce both you and this place to a pile of smoking wreckage before you can blink."  
  
  
  
Grasshopper almost started forward, but her words stopped him cold. His own life he would forfeit, but not all those around him in the ruin of the town. They'd all come here for protection, for safety, for a little peace in a world that despised them.   
  
She endangered that peace. And somehow, deep inside his gut, he knew that she could do what she promised without even breaking a sweat.  
  
Fighting back a snarl, he called a guard and arranged some transport - a fast car with a tank full of fuel. It was a sacrifice, since the town had no other, and fuel was scarce these days. But it was small compared to what she threatened.  
  
Wanda jumped in without a backward glance and drove away at full speed.   
  
No-one in Mutie Town was sad to see her leave, and the only thing that followed her flight was Scry's mournful wail as he held Jubilee's cooling body in his arms.  
  
*******************  
  
Wanda drove with a smile on her face. She knew what to do. Firstly, pick up the other new mutant - the one with control over water. He'd be useful. Plans, plans, plans... planning, planning, planning... so much to do, but do it she must. Only then she could face Pietro, and grind his face into the dust.   
  
She also knew where they were to meet. The only place where earth, air and water met was a river or the sea. Too far inland for the waves, so that left a river. More specifically, a bridge over one. The nearest major bridge was over the Mississippi, not too far for her to travel. 'Soon' meant he was close by. 'Soon' meant she knew where to meet him.  
  
She had the book, too. The prophecies in that would be most... helpful. She flipped it open on the dashboard and divided her attention, smile turning into a grin of confidence.   
  
She knew just what she was doing. She didn't just have luck on her side. She had fate, too.   
  
*******************  
  
A dark and cold night had fallen. The roadblocks and people who guarded them were long gone, as were the human-based towns, and the bus had parked for the night, keeping hidden as best it could in a withered patch of woodland. Logan had refuelled with little fuss or to-do, and now Kurt was giving out food from their supplies, so generously secured by Pietro.   
  
As he handed a bowl of tinned stew to the Speedster himself, Pietro took him aside.   
  
"Hey, Kurt," he said, "about that mutt."   
  
"Pietro, are you still sore about that? Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you but - "  
  
"Nonono, it's not really about that. It's just... well, there's a limit to how much even *I* can scavenge and... well, this bus is getting very crowded, if you know what I mean. All I'm saying is that perhaps we shouldn't go adopting every creature we see, okay?"  
  
"Ja, I see. But I'm not sure I agree."  
  
  
  
"Well, it's up to you. Just something to think about, is all." With this, Pietro went about the speedy task of eating his meal.   
  
Kurt sighed, and turned to the one person who hadn't received her share - Robyn. He had an extra big bowl for her. He wanted her to keep her strength up, and to apologise for not spending more of the day with her. They'd been just two for so long, he wasn't entirely sure how being with so many people all at once was affecting her.  
  
She sat huddled by the window, still covered in the blanket Alvin had put over her before. She seemed as attached to this as she had been the one in the basement back in Bayville.  
  
"Liebe? I have some lovely stew for you. Est ist gut, ja?"  
  
  
  
"No," said a small voice from the huddle of blankets. "'M not hungry."   
  
Kurt frowned. Both he and Robyn were both emaciated. They seldom got even half the amount of calories for keeping them alive and healthy. To hear Robyn refuse food was strange. Unless...   
  
"Robyn, there's plenty of food here. Enough to last us all many days. There's no need to go without for my sake."  
  
"S'not that. 'M just not hungry."  
  
  
  
Kurt could not help but be a little worried. Perhaps Robyn wouldn't eat because she was upset with him? He moved forward to comfort her. As he did so, he pushed down the blanket so that he could see her face, and gasped in shock at what he saw.   
  
Robyn's normally smooth fur was ruffled, matted with sweat. Her usually springy whiskers drooped, and the slit pupils of her eyes were narrow. She shivered madly.   
  
"Kurti," she whimpered, "please, put the blanket back on. I'm so cold."   
  
"Cold!" cried Kurt. "Mein Gott, Liebling! You've got a temperature higher than mine!"   
  
"Kurti," Robyn whimpered again. "Kurti, I don't feel so good."  
  
  
  
The others, hearing Kurt's exclamations, moved forward to see what was happening.   
  
Alvin pushed his way up to the front, muttering about herbs and healing. He checked her over, touching her fur, looking into her eyes, and asking questions.   
  
"Was ist los? What's wrong with her?" Kurt demanded, sounding as panicky as anyone there had ever heard him.   
  
"She has what is generally known as shivering sickness," Alvin replied, something strange in his voice.   
  
"Is... is that bad?" whispered Daisy, hiding behind Logan's legs.   
  
"Yes and no. It is easily treatable in the Goddess' lands. We have plants there that can cure it. However, I have none of these with me now."  
  
"Oh, Gott..."  
  
"I do, however, have some which may alleviate the symptoms - buy her time until she can be treated."  
  
  
  
"And... if she's not treated?" Kurt's shivers of fear echoed those of the fevered Robyn. She looked so ill, so wan and weak. Where was her life? Her bounce? Where had it gone so quickly?  
  
"Then," said Alvin reluctantly, "she... I'm afraid she will die."  
  
  
  
Kurt gasped, and fell back against the bus wall, hand to his mouth. "Nein... nein," he whispered.   
  
"But it shouldn't be a problem," Alvin put in quickly. "If all goes well then we should be at my homeland soon. Don't worry, I'll take care of her and do everything I can to help her."   
  
"Can't we find these herbs someplace else?" asked Rogue. "I mean, p'raps if we was to keep a look out whilst we was drivin?"  
  
"My dear," murmured Alvin sadly, "in this wasteland I would consider myself most fortunate to find a common garden weed, let alone a specific medical herb. The chemical residue isn't exactly full of nutrients for plant-life."  
  
  
  
"Oh. Yeah... I guess so. Sorry. Sometimes I forget, I guess. Sometimes I wake up with the smell of cut grass, if you take mah meaning." She sighed, and let Mystique put her arm round her again.   
  
"Hold on, hold on," said Lance suddenly. "How did she get sick? Are we gonna get it too? Is it contagious, I mean?" He looked pointedly at Hope.  
  
"No," said Alvin slowly. "No, not really. I'm not sure how she got it. It's generally carried by saliva, though kisses and suchlike. So unless any of you have been kissing her..."   
  
"That mutt!" cried Pietro. "That damn mutt, Clive! I bet that it licked her, and she put her hand in her mouth and that's how she got it!"  
  
"Animals such as dogs *can* be carriers," Alvin said, looking around thoughtfully.  
  
  
  
"Ya dumb Elf!" Logan growled, rounding on Kurt angrily. "Why the hell did ya have to go bringin' that creature on board anyway? Whaddya think this is? Swiss Family Robinson?"  
  
  
  
Now it was Kurt's turn to get snappy. "If you mean that I want to get us through this with some semblance of family and sanity - and even, perhaps, civilisation - then ja, Logan. I do think this is the Swiss Family Robinson. I'm sorry, maybe I was wrong, but it's me who'll pay the price... Robyn is... has been the one think keeping me sane, keeping me alive over the last few years. If she should die... if I should fail her like I failed the others, I... I don't know what I'll do."  
  
Logan eased off, but not by much. "Listen, Elf," he grunted, "I understand how y'feel. But Daisy's been around that dog a lot too - probably more than Robyn - and if *she* gets sick, if she comes to any harm, then I swear I'll have your blue-furred hide nailed to the bus. Understand, bub?"   
  
"Ja, Herr Logan," Kurt said coldly.  
  
  
  
With that, Logan moved away and, grabbing Daisy by the collar, led her outside. "Come on, shortstuff," he said. "We're taking ya for a bath. Get all that nasty dog saliva off ya."   
  
Kurt sank down to the floor, head in his hands.   
  
Something whimpered.  
  
He looked up to see the tiny form of Clive, looking at him with her head cocked on one side, innocent as any young animal.   
  
"Who'd have known you'd be so much trouble?' he whispered sadly, feeling less anger and more wretchedness at the world. Was everything precious to him fair game?  
  
Clive, for her part, only yapped happily, oblivious to the damage she had caused.   
  
*******************  
  
Daisy looked on worriedly as Logan retrieved a disused gasoline can of water, bowl, and small gas stove from the parked jeep. He cursed profusely as they made their way to the ground, shortly followed by himself. With a practised hand he poured a small amount of liquid into the bowl and set it atop the lit stove, then sat back and waited for it to heat up. From seemingly nowhere he then produced a bar of soap that smelled like carbolic and ordered her to strip off.   
  
Daisy glanced fearfully at the bus. "But what if somebody comes out an' sees me?"   
  
Logan grunted dangerously. "They ain't that stupid, kid."   
  
Biting her lip, Daisy did as she was bid and soon was standing stock still as he doused the soap and began washing her down with it. He was gentle, perhaps more so than some would think him capable of, and more than once she giggled inadvertently as he scrubbed at her and rinsed the ticklish bubbles and foam off again.   
  
When he stood behind her, rubbing suds into her scalp, Daisy finally plucked up enough courage to speak again.   
  
"Logan?"   
  
"Yeah, kid?"   
  
"Is Robyn gonna be okay?"   
  
Logan was silent for a moment.   
  
"Logan - "   
  
"I heard ya, kid. Robyn's... she's real sick, accordin' to God-Boy."   
  
Daisy scuffed her scaly little feet. "Back home, lotsa people used to get sick. Not many of 'em got better again."   
  
_Shit._ "But back home you didn't have God-Boy, and all his healin' know-how, did ya?"   
  
"No," she allowed, and was quiet for a few seconds. Then, abruptly, she turned on the older mutant and blurted, "I'm scared, Logan. All them that died, Pa always said it were my fault, 'cause... 'cause I'm a mutie." Her pale eyes were filled with tears, and Logan blanched to see his tough little Daisy on the verge of a sobbing fit.   
  
Waitasecond, *his* Daisy? When the heck had that happened? Time was he never would've got close to people, for fear of outlasting them and seeing them grow old and die. How on earth had he managed to get himself tied to this stubborn, outcast tyke? Never would've happened in the old days...   
  
_Old days._  
  
Daisy grabbed at his hand, and a sliver of soap slid stingingly close to her left eye. She blinked, but otherwise didn't flicker for a moment. "Logan, I'm scared that... that Robyn's sick 'cause of me. That she's gonna *die*... 'cause of me." She sniffed, and her eyelashes glistened with something saltier than soap.   
  
Logan looked at her, expression inscrutable. Then he dropped to his knees and enveloped her in a bear hug that surprised even himself. The little lizard-girl hiccupped as he stroked her hair and whispered calming shushing noises Ororo had used to use whenever one of the kids were distraught or upset.   
  
"Shhh, s'alright, Daisy. Y'ain't to blame, no matter what your Pa used to say." _Bastard! If ever I meet him again, I'll gut him on the spot!_ "Robyn's sick because of that damn dog - "   
  
"Clive?" Daisy pulled back a little to look at him. "Does that mean you're gonna get rid of her?"   
  
"Well..." Logan bit back the 'yes' at the doleful look on her face.   
  
"Please don't," Daisy said pleadingly. "Clive's a good puppy, really. I'll make sure she stays outta the way n' stuff - honest."   
  
"I dunno, kid." Logan dropped his gaze and sighed. "I don't want you to get sick like her."   
  
"*Me* get sick?" At this, Daisy seemed genuinely surprised. "But Logan, I thought you understood; I *can't* get sick."   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"Never been sick in my life. Not once, 'cept for those sore-y things you cleaned up. That's why Pa always said I was the one making everyone else sick, and why he'd punish me." Her expression turned a little embarrassed. "He used to hit me, but I never got no scars like the others when their pa's hit 'em. See?" She turned around a little and showed him her flat, if scaly back.   
  
Logan lightly brushed it. There wasn't a mark on her. Not even the boils he'd lanced a few days previous. "Ya mean to say ya got better real quick?"   
  
"Uh-huh. Pa used to say that I'd gone scaly again even before the next belt-lash got me. I never saw it, but Pa wasn't one for lies 'bout stuff like that."   
  
_Well I'll be jiggered._ Logan's eyes widened in shock. _Healin' factor, maybe? P'raps somthin' similar?_ "And to think, I was wonderin' what your powers were gonna turn out to be." _Latent mutant genes in her parents, I'll bet. Be interestin' to see if'n she gets any more powers n' that._ "Why didn't you say nuthin'?"   
  
"You never asked." She turned back again and shivered a little.   
  
Logan noted the action and decided to forego the rest of the bath in favour of a blanket he threw over and vigorously rubbed her down with instead.   
  
"Logan?"   
  
"Yeah?"   
  
"You never answered me. Is Robyn gonna die?"   
  
He sucked a breath of air in through his teeth and shot a look at the bus, where a furry blue figure could just be seen through the window. "Honestly? I don't know, kid. I just don't know."  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
******************* 


	19. Cry

A/N ~ Thanks go to Remedy=Chill, UnknownSource, Karaden (new reviewer, yay!), Yma and Yodelbean for their lovely reviews.   
  
Karaden, I'll email you the sketches as soon as I can, but Hotmail is arguing with my computer of late. As for chapters... well, I don't rightly know how many there are, but the entire thing plus epilogues (yes, plural), and Appendix clocks in at 410-ish pages at .10 font size, if that's any help.  
  
Remedy=Chill; the Bayville Demon is a staple of a lot of fanfiction, though I don't know if it was canon. Just goes to show how humour seeps through the subconscious, huh? ^_^   
  
UnknownSource; that would be Shaking Sickness from 'Of Beast and Blade' you're thinking of, which is kind of a cross between pneumonia and pleurisy. The Shivering Sickness found here was Yma's design, and since the symptoms are pretty ambiguous, it could be anything and everything a reader desires it to be. Alvin's no trained doctor, he just picked up things from the Goddess' people. It's unlikely he'd know proper names for things.  
  
Yma and Yodelbean; thanks for the support, guys. I appreciate it. And yeah, Scott did have a few valid points. But like you said, what else do you expect from a multi-authored project?  
  
Any and all fanart from anybody is most certainly welcome, and I shall present it to the other authors should some arrive (hinthintnudgenudge). Have to see about setting up a webpage sometime for the fanart people have given me already. Anybody feels like helping me, I'd be eternally grateful, since I know less than diddly-squat about HTML -_-;;  
  
Reviews will be nurtured like children. Please give them a home with us here.  
  
*******************  
  
Nineteenth Fragment ~ 'Cry'  
  
*******************  
  
Alvin was carefully and methodically preparing a wet rag to place on Robyn's forehead. He folded it into quarters and dipped it into some dirty water. Clean water was too precious to use for cooling, but he made sure it wasn't *too* filthy.   
  
He had always found that doing a simple task perfectly always cleared his mind wonderfully, as well as allowing him to concentrate on other things as he carried out his mindless labour on automatic. At the moment he was composing a prayer to the Goddess.   
  
_Oh, Goddess, protect us in our hour of need,_ he thought fervently. _I'm just human, and the others, for all their special powers - for all they are the saviours foretold in prophecy - are too.   
  
_I can do little for the child but make her more comfortable. I fear that, even if she's not dead by the time we reach the Lands of New Hope, she will be beyond even you. I fear that you will be beyond reach yourself when I return. I fear for Kurt and Daisy, if their little sister is taken from them. I fear for sweet young Hope, that she may never truly know the world if more raiders catch up with us. I fear for Pietro; all he believed in was inconsistency, and now even that has been washed away._ He allowed himself a tight smile at the paradox.   
  
_But also... I fear for myself. I can feel my faith eroding. How is my quest supposed to be blessed with all that's happened? How is..._ He stopped, and then shook his head, dispelling the unwarranted thoughts. _Protect us, Goddess, and guide us toward refuge, gently._   
  
Alvin returned to his plants, and selected some that he could create an anti-pyrrhic with. He didn't make a sound as he began to grind the leaves together in a small bowl.   
  
"How's she doing?" asked Kurt quietly from where he had created a bed out of the benches in the bus.   
  
Alvin grinned broadly, as he always did when the others could see him. He knew that they viewed him as slightly nutty, but harmless and pleasant in his own odd way. He was in no hurry to destroy whatever tenuous link he had with these people. "As well as we have any right to expect," he said with forced cheerfulness.   
  
Kurt nodded invisibly and solemnly in the dark, and watched his sister's laboured breathing through tireless golden eyes. Alvin looked at him for a moment, appraising. Then he returned to his work.   
  
*******************  
  
Jamie Three bit his lip. He could hear Jane crying again. He followed the sounds of her sorrow to one of the bubble-windows on the underside of Asteroid M.   
  
"You shouldn't be here," he said with a sigh. "You *know* it hurts."   
  
"Broken," moaned the small girl. "All broken... I can't reach them."   
  
As gently as he could, Jamie Three picked her up and hugged her, moving slowly but surely away from the window. "You'd only hurt yourself trying to fix them all," he said. "You're too weak already."   
  
"... But I can *feel* them..."   
  
He sighed, putting her down and taking her hand. The argument was an old one. "Come on. Two's got a batch of his famous casserole cooking up. You like the casserole, remember? The meat's all vat-grown and can't feel, you said. Beef without cows?"   
  
Jane nodded, but her eyes stayed fixed on the window.   
  
"Come on." Jamie Three led her a little bit faster, "The stronger you are, the sooner Erik's going to let you heal more of us. More friends. And you gotta eat to get strong."   
  
Jane just nodded, smiling a little. It was a frail smile, and rare, but the Jamies would do just about anything to see such smiles on her face.   
  
He'd seen her when Erik had bought her in. A scared, silent and wounded little creature, blood oozing from eyes, ears, nose, mouth and all her nails. Erik had said she'd overstrained herself, and put her in the regen-chamber to help her heal.   
  
It had taken a month before she actually said anything beyond 'broken' or 'fix', and then it had been the word 'pretty'.   
  
Jamie One had shown her a mirror.   
  
He'd adopted her, kind-of, making himselves her honorary big brothers. He made it his business to help her get better. So did Brian[1], but Jamie liked to think he was better at it. After all, he'd been out of stasis longer than the British man.   
  
It was slow work, but she was speaking in complete sentences most of the time. She only reverted to disjoined words when anxious or scared.  
  
Poor little sister.   
  
*******************  
  
Poor little sister.   
  
Alvin had gone off somewhere, presumably to talk to one of the others outside. Kurt held Robyn close, deliberately purring into her ear to keep her calm and happy. It was all he could do, and it didn't stop the 'ifs' jabbing at him at every moment.   
  
If he hadn't let them keep the dog.   
  
If he'd known about the sickness.   
  
If he'd stopped the creature licking them and tainting her lips with sickness-filled saliva.   
  
If he'd *told* her that puppy-kisses weren't clean.   
  
If... If... If...   
  
*******************  
  
"Knockedoverafewstores. Foundachemists," Pietro offered. He had a sack over one shoulder and an armload of boxes. "SomeofthisstuffmightworkonRobyn..."   
  
"Thank you, Pie-Pie," said Mystique. She actually knew some medicine as a matter of survival. Blue mutants couldn't get medical help from just anywhere, and her shapeshifting tended to fritz when she was ill.   
  
She sorted through the boxes. _Will help. Won't help. Might help. Last resort..._ "This is very useful."   
  
"Really? I'mgonnagogetmorethen." {Zwip} He still couldn't really stand being near her, whatever truce he'd come to with Kurt, but the fact that he was talking to her without the words 'I hate you' in the sentence was a good sign.  
  
And then Todd was there. "Hey, Boss Lady."   
  
_Is she going to join you?_ Mystique thought at him, not taking her eyes from the medicines.   
  
"I don't think so. God Boy knows his stuff. You know medicine plus mutant metabolisms... Pie-Pie's gettin' faster, yo... Between all o' ya, she could make it."   
  
_Could,_ she thought. _Not good enough. I want 'will'._   
  
"You're gettin' good at this whole carin' thing, yo. I'm startin' to think you'd make a good Mom."   
  
"Can't be any worse than your old ones," she muttered.   
  
"What?" Nearby, Lance looked up, startled by her sudden words.   
  
"Nothing," she said with a wave of her hand. "Just thinking aloud."   
  
"Mmm..." Lance went back to his knitting. Alvin sat near him, showing the erstwhile thuggish mutant how to finish a row without breaking the thin, threadbare wool. The irony of it completely bypassed both of them, but Kitty wore a small smile at the click-click-clicking needles.  
  
Mystique gathered up all the medicine that would definitely help and stood just inside the door of the bus, calling to her son. "How fast is her metabolism?" she asked.   
  
"I... I don't know," Kurt admitted. "I think it's fast. Fast for most humans, at any rate. But not as fast as mine. I wish I could help more..." He wrung his hands, and then his tail, twisting the tip in a way that could not have been comfortable.  
  
"Don't worry," his mother soothed. "We've got all these medicines. With so much, hopefully *something* in here will help."  
  
  
  
Kurt nodded. Mystique smiled weakly, and plonked the box down before leaving again to wait for Pietro. Then, quietly, the elf began to do something he had not done in a very long time.   
  
He began to pray.   
  
He couldn't say exactly when he had stopped praying to God. It had just petered out over a long period of time, when he had become more concerned with keeping himself alive and sane than relying on any higher power to do it for him. Sure, he'd shouted at Him, implored Him - even had the odd argument with an empty sky. Yet somehow, the action of actually, consciously praying was one he just didn't do anymore.  
  
He remembered once trying to explain the concept to Robyn. She hadn't understood.   
  
"But Kurti," she'd said, "If there was this good God, why did he let all this bad stuff happen?"  
  
"I don't know, Liebling," Kurt had replied, "Perhaps it's a kind of test, to find out how far we've come. Like Jesus' tests in the desert. You remember that story, ja?"  
  
"Seems a pretty mean test to me," she'd said thoughtfully. "If I were God, I wouldn't do anything like this."  
  
Kurt had sighed and given up the argument. It seemed like there was little to hold faith in these days. In that way, he sympathised and understood Pietro.   
  
Now, however, faith seemed to be all he had. There seemed to be nothing he could do to help his little sister. Only pray, and hope that there was some God up there, and that He could do something - anything - to save Robyn.   
  
And, in turn, save him.   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro was a blur against the barren wasteland. Running quickly, it only took him two minutes to reach the chemist store in the abandoned town, 45 miles away.   
  
He rooted thought the various pills and condiments, seeing names that resembled his talking in fast-speech, such as poloypropalanediomticicacilidate. A mouthful, and no mistake.  
  
He randomly grabbed a load, and was still scanning shelves when a voice behind him said, "Turn around. Slowly now, stranger."  
  
  
  
He froze, and swivelled lightly on one foot to see a teenager, no more than about sixteen if he was a day. The brown, floppy hair was in dire need of a cut, but looked rather adorable in a childish kind of way. Not so the sword in his hand. A sword pointing at Pietro.   
  
"Who are you, and what's your business here?" the boy demanded without preamble.  
  
"I could ask the same of you," Pietro replied. Usually he would have been off like a shot, but some idiotic part of him was curious. The boy was alone and only armed with a single weapon that didn't have much of a radius. With his speed, what harm would a little knife like that do?   
  
"I," said the boy, "am a scout and garrison of Mutie Town. I'm wandering these lands, looking for rogues and trespassers in our territory. You're stealing from a shop that falls within our boundaries, and are thus stealing our property. As such, I demand you identify yourself and come with me."  
  
"Pretty big boundaries. I never saw any other towns hereabouts." Pietro felt a little less confident. Anyone coming from a place called 'Mutie Town' would invariably be a mutant. You didn't go flagging up towns like that just for fun in times like this. Who knew what sort of powers this kid possessed? Appearances could be deceiving, as he well knew.   
  
On the other hand, he might be more likely to be friendly to Pietro, as a fellow mutant, so perhaps it would be wise to play along for a bit. Leastways until he figured out what he was truly dealing with here.  
  
"The name's Pietro Maximoff. I'm a mutant. I'm here collecting medicine. One of my... uh, friends - who's also a mutant - is sick, and needs help. You got a problem with that?"  
  
  
  
"..." gasped the scout. "Maximoff? You mean you're Windswift? Son of... of Erik Lenscherr? Of the Mighty Magneto?"  
  
Blink, blink. _How the hell..._ "Er... well... kinda..."   
  
The boy fell onto his knees. "Oh mighty Windswift! May I, a humble solider, take this moment to humbly greet you to our humble lands."  
  
"Um... right. That's nice. Lotta humble. AndnowIgottabegoing."  
  
  
  
"No! You can't go! I've got to take you back with me; you have to come back to Mutie Town to meet your people. Even," he spread his feet in a doubtless fighting posture, "if I have to make you."  
  
  
  
Pietro arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? You and what army?"  
  
  
  
"This one."  
  
  
  
Abruptly, the boy ran over and purposefully banged his head against the wall. Once, twice, three times - and each time he did, another one of him appeared. He doubled each time he hit himself. Soon Pietro was surrounded by lots of brown haired boys with swords.   
  
"Aw, shit!" He looked around the circle, playing for time in the hopes a flash of inspiration would come to him this time and not stupidity. "Uh... how did..."   
  
"I wasn't given the codename 'Multiple' for nothing. Real name's Jamie, though. And now you have to come with me." He broke off to chuckle happily. "Oh man, this is *great*! First one, then the other. Both brother and sister arriving at once - "  
  
"Excuse me? My... sister?" What did this character know of Robyn?  
  
  
  
"Uh-huh. Rumours amongst the scouts are that the fabled Wanda Maximoff herself has made an appearance in these lands, and even now is at our beautiful town; a haven for all mutants, built in the name of the Master of Magnetism. It's your legacy. That's why you have to come with me." [2]  
  
{DOING}  
  
Now Pietro was caught. On the one hand Robyn, his adopted little sister, needed these medicines. On the other, if his sister - his *real* sister - was alive, and he had a chance of seeing her again...   
  
One or the other.  
  
It was a difficult decision.   
  
_I've got two roads to walk down, and one road to choose[3]... so which one am I gonna?_  
  
*******************  
  
Seer entered through the back door, and Ororo spoke before he'd even finished walking the passage to the room in which she sat.  
  
"Any news today?" she asked.   
  
"None," he sighed.   
  
"How many days since the last wanderer returned?"   
  
"28 today, m'Lady."   
  
"And the weather is holding?"   
  
"Quite well."   
  
"Have you made any headway on your prophecies?"   
  
"No." Seer looked down for a moment. "But I - " He rounded the back of her chair and goggled. "Goddess?"   
  
Ororo was suddenly vanished from where she'd been, and seated in her customary chair was a small man with quick, darting purple eyes.   
  
Seer's own eyes narrowed, and he hissed on instinct. Where had Ororo gone? "Who are you?" the gargoyle-like mutant raged, flexing his claws in what he knew was a threatening gesture.   
  
"Seer," said the man, ignoring the question. "One of your men shall return to you within six days' time. He escorts seven that you seek, and three children of the future. Another of the Blessed moves towards you even now. She has no business in your Paradise, and shall die ere she travel that way again. The one seen, but not foreseen, shall join the seven. He will bring great wealth to your land, and save your Goddess' paradise when she can no longer do so."  
  
  
  
"I... don't understand," Seer faltered. He had the sudden feeling that he knew this man, though he was certain he'd never laid eyes upon him before in his life. "Who are you? Where are you from? What've you done with the Goddess?"  
  
  
  
"Don't always trust what your eyes tell you."  
  
"Is this a Vision, then?"  
  
He didn't answer. "I am Scry. All the elements shall clash in front of my House. Time will go on. You must be ready."   
  
"But - "   
  
"You must be ready!" The man rose, giving emphasis to his words. "Your Goddess shall be saved for a time, but the Blessed Ones are waylaid with healing for the child. She quivers, but neither in fear nor anger. Your man is using all his skill, but he does not carry the healing herbs. You must make haste, and ready yourselves for their arrival." He pointed to the air above them. "From there shall they come, borne on the might of one who would seek to destroy them. But first, the child."  
  
"Which child?" Seer demanded. "One of ours? What ails this child you talk of?"   
  
"What child?" Ororo asked.   
  
Seer blinked, the Vision fading out and returning to the familiar room and equally familiar inhabitant. Ororo peered at him, and suddenly all the strength went out of his limbs. He sank to the floor.  
  
"M'lady... I Saw..."   
  
*******************  
  
"Hey!" A voice cut through Scry's semi-consciousness. "It's just a nightmare. Wake up!"   
  
He sat up in bed, slightly bewildered at the sudden change in altitude and a lot confused. As the room came slowly into focus, Grasshopper's fathomless eyes peered at him with the closest to concern the winged mutant ever showed. He was dressed in the same clothes as always, since he never changed for bed, and even when he did retire, he rarely slept. Yet another facet of his mutation, and one that meant he often wandered the darkened streets at night, making sure all was well and flitting to windows when it appeared not so.  
  
"Not a nightmare," Scry panted, blinking deep purple eyes. "A Vision."   
  
{PING} All business in an instant. "What did you see?"   
  
"I saw a monster. A mutant. A man. I told him all I knew of the Blessed Ones." Scry paused, remembering. "He told me his Goddess is in desperate need of healing, and asked me to send them to her. They must be there within a week. It's very important."   
  
"Why?"   
  
Scry shook his head. "He said the Lady would return with another. She won't survive the visit. The one travelling with her must join the others to see the Goddess."   
  
Grasshopper frowned. "I don't get it."   
  
Scry leaped out of bed. "You don't have to. Just be ready."  
  
"Be ready?" The insectoid mutant followed him out. "Ready for what? *Scry*! Scry, hold it. Scry, as leader, I *order* you to tell me what the *hell* you're talking about!"   
  
Scry whirled around, but instead of the anger Grasshopper was expecting, the small man's face was creased into what could only be described as intense sadness; like he was mourning for someone Grasshopper hadn't even known had died. The few remaining locks of greasy brown hair sprouting from the back of Scry's head were damp with sweat, and he ran an agitated hand through them.   
  
Grasshopper took a tentative step forward. Comfort had never been his forte. He was a tactician, and had leadership and survival qualities coming out of the tiny holes that passed for ears. Emotions were more Jubilee's area of expertise.   
  
Or had been, at any rate.   
  
On impulse, he glanced out of the window to his right. The glass was broken, and a filthy rag fluttered as a makeshift curtain, all but obscuring the broken little bundle wrapped in cloth on the other side. The fabric was darker in places where the blood had dried, and there was a frail element about it she'd never possessed in life. Not even when she first came here from the brothel, all those months ago.   
  
"Look, Scry, is it about Jubilee? I know you two were close, but we simply can't spare the manpower to bury her until morning - "   
  
"It's not about that!" Scry snapped, tone belying his expression. He and Jubilee had indeed been close, despite their age difference. Though not physical lovers, they had been as close as that in a spiritual sense. Her sudden death had hit him hard. He'd expected her to outlive him, maybe even to someday bear his children. Now all those hopes were shattered, and it spoke volumes for his strength of character that he was picking himself up and carrying on.  
  
After all, in Mutie Town there was rarely any time for grief. Defence and keeping raiders at bay ate it all up, as did caring for those poor unfortunate souls[4] who stumbled in here from the wastelands.  
  
Grasshopper blinked. "Then what - "   
  
"They're coming," Scry intoned gravely. "He told me. I had a vision of the Goddess' village. There's a mutant there. Someone who Sees things like I do. He was the one who gave the prophecies the wanderers carry around in their books. We exchanged our tales - though it seemed we were only listening to the other speak - and he warned me of their coming hence."   
  
"Who?" Despite himself, Grasshopper was intrigued. He reminded himself that Mutie Town had to be fortified against any newcomers, lest they be hostile. Back in the beginning, when all this started four years ago, his small hamlet of a home had been ripped to shreds by those they'd trusted and led into their midst when they came stumbling out of the mist, asking for shelter. Like leading slaughterers right into the flock.   
  
Well, not this time. Not if he could help it.   
  
"Seven of them, plus three he - we - had not foreseen. A preacher leads them, and loses his faith with every step. One follows them with another. It is... it is *she*. The *One* who stole... who stole..." His eyes went wide with shock at a meaning only he understood, and Scry promptly fainted straight into his leader's arms.   
  
Grasshopper swore under his breath. "Crap, this is *all* I need. What gibberish are you spouting now, old friend? And what in blue blazes does it mean for us?"   
  
*******************  
  
"Kurti..."   
  
Kurt sprang up and crouched next to his little sister's side. "Ja, Liebling. What is it?"   
  
Robyn said nothing for a moment, and her breath rasped in her throat. She sounded many times worse than she had a mere hour ago, and her fur, which had only been damp before, was now soaked with sweat until the perspiration dripped off her and onto the floor of the bus. She sat, huddled in her seat with her forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window. Her eyes were closed.   
  
She looked, to summarize, like death warmed up.   
  
Kurt swallowed nervously. "Robyn?"   
  
She coughed again, and shivered like someone was walking across her grave. "Kurti... I can h... hear her..."   
  
"Who, poppet? Who can you hear?"   
  
"C... Cl... Clive.... she's crying."   
  
Kurt suppressed a growl. He was an animal lover, by nature, but was fast developing something akin to hatred for the little pup that was threatening to take his Liebling from him. His sadness had channelled itself into anger, and the pup was bearing the brunt of it.  
  
Outside, tied to the door of the bus by a length of cord wrapped around a long stick so that she couldn't get back in, Clive whimpered, and let loose a mournful howl that might have turned Kurt, could he not see Robyn's condition playing out before him.   
  
"K... Kurti?"   
  
"Clive's fine, liebe," he soothed, running a hand over her cheek that came away slick with sweat. "She's just... missing you, is all."   
  
That elicited a small smile. "S'nice. I like Clive, K... Kurti... She's all soft an'...an' warm like you, o... o... only not as ho... ::cough:: ... hot..." Her speech slowed and slurred a little, and Kurt's ears pricked up immediately.   
  
"Robyn? Robyn, are you okay? How are you feeling?"   
  
She shouldered his touch away, but her movements were slow, and her breath hitched in her gullet like a choking seagull. "S'too hot, Kurti... wan... wanna... slee... sleee... sleeeeeeeeeee..." She trailed off, and her head flopped forward to bounce against the glass.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt noticed her tail suddenly go limp.   
  
"Alvin!" he called desperately, fearing something was terribly wrong. "*Alvin*!"   
  
A thundering of flappy footsteps behind him signalled the wanderer's arrival. "What is it, Blessed One?"   
  
"She's not moving her tail. Even when she's deep asleep, her tail always moves. *Always*!"   
  
Robyn did not move, and the breath rattled in her chest. Alvin crouched down beside her, lifted the bottom of her shirt to her throat, and placed his ear flush to her chest. The breath crackled in her lungs, and her heartbeat faltered. He leaned back and replaced her shirt. When he took her pulse, both at her neck and her wrist, it was thready.   
  
"How much cold water do we have?" he asked quietly.   
  
"Cold? Almost none," Kurt anxiously replied. They had nothing to keep water cold *with*. Dammit, where was Pietro with that medicine? "Why?"   
  
Alvin leaned back on his heels. "Apart from putting her in a large bath of cold water, there's really nothing we can do. I ... ah, I wish there was something..."   
  
"Nothing?" Kurt exclaimed, looking appalled.   
  
Alvin closed his eyes and massaged the spot between them. "She's in pain, and it's only going to get worse. The sickness is much *much* quicker than I ever anticipated. One of my plants... it's an opiate. If you want - if you think it's best, I can make up a sedative quickly. I have enough to..." he trailed off deliberately, unable to think of something diplomatic to say.   
  
Kurt's eyes went wide. "You want to *kill* her?" His voice rose to a hoarse scream.   
  
Balling up a fist, he hit Alvin. Then, lifting Robyn in both hands, 'ported away, leaving the man sprawled gracelessly on the floor.   
  
*******************  
  
Some time later, Logan found Kurt in a stagnant pond a good distance from where the bus was parked. It was freezing. Kurt was on his knees, cradling Robyn in the shallows and still panting from the long-passed teleport.   
  
Logan waded up to him silently. "Elf," he said, touching him on the shoulder.   
  
Kurt said nothing.   
  
Logan crouched in the water beside Robyn, and took her from the elf. Kurt did not resist. Logan could hear him breathing, but not Robyn. He didn't look at the former when he said, "She's dead, Kurt."   
  
"I know," Kurt whispered quietly, "but I didn't know what else to do, because Alvin said to keep her cool, and the water was cool, so I took her here, but she was so feverish, and I couldn't do anything but keep her here in the water, and there wasn't anything else I knew to do, and I couldn't... couldn't..."   
  
Logan said nothing, but easily lifted both of them out of the water. He held Robyn's body in one arm, and left the other around Kurt's shoulder. The elf leaned on him shakily, and they started to walk back to the bus.   
  
Kurt didn't cry. Not even a single teardrop or sniffle.  
  
His Liebling was gone. It didn't matter what he did anymore.  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] As in Braddock. Otherwise known as Captain Britain, before the war sent him as an injured into one of Maggie's stasis tubes.  
  
[2] Jamie's been out on patrol this whole time, and with communication the way it is, it stands to reason he wouldn't yet know of Wanda's exploits in Mutie Town, even if he did hear the rumours from the other scouts of her being there.  
  
[3] From _Thinking It Over_ by Dana Glover. 


	20. Kings and Miracles

A/N ~ I never get tired of reading the reviews, so a big shout out to Krazy Xanadu, Yma, UnknownSource, tenshiamanda, Remedy=Chill, hootild, ezrajade and Ambrosia. You guys are all worth your weight in virtual gold.   
  
I had no idea Robyn's death would spark such a response in folks. Generally, people aren't all that bothered when OCs cop it, and it makes me feel all warm and snuggly inside that peeps would like her enough to mourn her. ^_^ So, morbid though it sounds, thanks for that.   
  
*******************  
  
Twentieth Fragment ~ 'Kings and Miracles'   
  
*******************  
  
Daisy ran out when she saw Logan and Kurti approaching with Robyn held in Kurti's arms.   
  
Robyn was very, *very* still.   
  
Daisy's heart dropped to her lower bowel, and she suddenly felt like someone had punched her in the gut. She'd seen that kind of stillness before, when the sickness ravaged her hometown and turned her own family against her. "Is she...?" she asked, hoping she was mistaken.  
  
Kurti nodded, throat bobbing and jaw tight.   
  
No. That was *wrong*. Her very first and younger sister *had* to be okay. Anything else was just wrong. "No," she said, whispering. Then again, firmer, "*No*!"   
  
"Daisy - " Logan began.   
  
"*NO*!" Daisy screamed. Her eyes spurted tears, and her fists clenched by her sides. It couldn't happen. She wouldn't *let* it happen!  
  
And then something was happening inside her, and it made her head hurt and everything feel wobbly.   
  
And she knew. She *knew* that there was someone who could help. And she *knew* where that someone was. And she wanted that person here. She *had* to be here...  
  
There was a near-concussive blast of air, and abruptly a small child was standing amongst them. She was five, if she was a day; an angel in human form, short only her pinkie fingers and toes, and clad in a simple shift for a dress.   
  
"Broken," said the newcomer, and reached out to touch Robyn's motionless little form. Then she shut her eyes.   
  
"Logan?" said Daisy. "You need to touch her shoulder. You donate your energy by touchin' 'er. She... she uses spiritual energies from... from donors to heal..." How did she know that? Daisy wasn't sure. She just did. Just like she knew she'd brought this person here. Just like she knew she knew exactly where the little angel had come from. Someplace in the sky...  
  
Kurti seized the newcomer's arm without a second thought, startling Daisy back to Earth. "Heal her. Take everything. Just heal her."   
  
Logan placed his hand on the child's shoulder. "Ditto."   
  
A diamond pause. The angel frowned, concentrating.  
  
Robyn gasped; a shuddering, laboured breath.   
  
Then another.   
  
And another.   
  
Breath by breath, her breathing was easier. All traces of death slid away, replaced by life. Feverish life, but life nonetheless.   
  
Blood dripped from the healer's nose, dotting her nice white dress. Yet she maintained her air of unnerving serenity.   
  
She opened her eyes. "Fixed," she said, looking tired. She turned to Daisy. "I need to go back."   
  
Daisy nodded once, and the same concussive blast reversed itself.   
  
Then she fell down. So tired. So very tired. Her vision swam, and her feet seemed too small to balance on.  
  
Logan caught her, and it was his amazed and smiling face she saw as blackness swallowed her.  
  
*******************  
  
"Herr Logan..." Elf couldn't finish. Robyn's tail was twitching. He was holding her as if he never wanted to let her go ever again. "[Praise God, she's alive...]" Elf murmured in German. "[Bless the little Angel...]"   
  
Daisy was fast asleep, completely wiped out. It took a lot of emotion for a power to activate this young, and her little body couldn't handle it. She already had an ability to deal with, and now this...  
  
Mind you, Logan was feeling more than a little wrung out, himself.   
  
"C'mon, Elf. We gotta get 'em back inside."   
  
"Jawohl." It took him three goes to stand.   
  
Raven was concerned when they attained the bus. "What happened out there?"   
  
"Divine intervention," gasped the Elf, and Logan nodded dumbly.   
  
That one led to a lot of perplexed expressions.   
  
*******************  
  
"Jane!" Brian scooped her up without thinking when she appeared in the hall. "Are you okay?"   
  
"I was lucky," she whispered, blood running from her nose. "They'd kept her cold. If she was warm - I couldn't help her." She drowsed for a moment in his arms. "Can I borrow? I'm all run down. Need energy."   
  
"Sure," said Brian, lacing his fingers through her tiny ones. "It's the least I can do. And I'll take you to your bedroom too. How's that?"   
  
Jane just smiled.   
  
He'd have to report this, of course. But that could wait. Jane was the most precious of Magneto's living resources. Their only real healer.   
  
They *had* to take good care of her.  
  
*******************  
  
Ha, this was funny. There were lots of Jamies. Jamies, Jamies and more Jamies. Ha ha! If they all died, would there be lots of Jamie bodies? Or would they become one body? Would that one body be really big because of all the Jamies it had to fit into it?   
  
Pietro's mind whirled. So many choices. So many families. So many Jamies.   
  
"Windswift," said one of the clones.  
  
"Are you," added another.   
  
"Okay?" finished a third.   
  
"Ha," replied Pietro manically. "I'm fine, just fine. Jamie, Jamie and Jamie. It's just that things have got busy again. Busy, busy, busy, gotta keep busy. But gotta be calm as well. Gotta be dead."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Shhh, you don't count. I'm dead."  
  
"Oh-Kayyy..."  
  
  
  
With this statement Pietro threw himself to the ground and lay still, trying to be dead.   
  
It was what he always did when life got too hectic. He'd done it when Todd died, going home and burying his face in his makeshift bed to get his scattered thoughts together. Pretending he had died through suffocation under his own pillow - that was number 24 of his 'best ways to die' list. He'd done it when Mystique talked to him on the bus, when he'd thrown himself on the upstairs seats, barely moving.   
  
Only Kurt had dragged him out of that, because Kurt was so... alive.  
  
  
  
The good thing about being dead was the tranquillity of it. To Pietro, it seemed like a great way to put things in perspective. So *acting* dead did much the same thing. It made perfect sense when your mind was a little off-kilter.  
  
_I'm dead,_ he thought firmly. _Just lying here, rotting in the sun. No more worrying; no more running; no more speed or panic or change. No more stability. Just nothing. And now I have nothing, I can think about everything. Because I'm dead. I'm at peace, and nothing can ever affect me ever again.   
  
_So, how to solve this problem? I want to see my sister, and I want to save my sister, but the sister to save is more important than the sister to see, and so must come first. But it's been so long since I saw the other - I thought she was dead! I should save the one first, but what if the other leaves while I'm doing that? But if I go with this guy, then my other sister could die for real. Could I... go both ways? I could take one Jamie with me, give him a ride on my back to my sister Robyn, and then get that Jamie to take me to my other sister, to Wanda. That could work, right? Yeah, that makes sense. Only I'm dead, so I can't do it. Oh wait, hold on - no I'm not. I'm alive... bummer._  
  
  
  
Pietro took a deep gulp of air, and sat up. "Okay, you can come with me first, and then I'll go with you. That way we both get what we want."   
  
The Jamies just looked rather bemused.   
  
"I need to save my sister - my other sister with Kurt," he started to gabble, "who'salsomybrothertoo. Ihaveahugefamilyme. You'reprobablymycousinorbrotherinfact - oroneofyouisanway. Hey, butwhichofyoutocarry? Can'tcarryyouallI'llkeeloverfromtoomuchweightifIdo."  
  
It took a few seconds for the Jamies to translate the speedster's words, but when they did they smiled and said, "Don't worry."   
  
"We can just..."  
  
  
  
"...absorb back..."  
  
  
  
"...into each other."  
  
  
  
With that, all the Jamies seemed to fall into deep concentration. Slowly, their bodies began to merge into each other, shifting and sliding, until there was only one Jamie left. The original, replete with floppy brown hair and silly little sword.  
  
  
  
"Right," said Pietro. "Climb onto my back, and help me carry these medicines, okay? Aaaaand... we're off!"   
  
*******************  
  
Erik's eyes widened in shock and horror at the small, bloody bundle.   
  
"What's going on here?" he demanded in full Magneto mode, striding towards the pair of mutants in the corridor and the fallen healer girl. "What happened to Jane? What did you *do*?"   
  
Brian tensed, and then let his shoulders slump. He'd been hoping to get Jane back to quarters without being spotted so he could clean her up and figure out what had happened himself. Why did people always turn up exactly when they weren't supposed to?   
  
Fortunately for him, the boy they'd literally run into and knocked over in the corridor spoke up for them in an instant. Curiously, he didn't seem to have any fear of the towering Master of Magnetism, and his voice held a hint of challenge nobody else would've dared use in such a compromising situation.   
  
"Nothing bad, before you think it. I just ran into these two down there," he bobbed his head in the direction they'd come from, "and we were taking the tyke to the med room. From what I understand, she vanished and reappeared again a couple of minutes later, deadbeat and bleeding. Wouldn't say where she'd been or anything."   
  
Erik arched an eyebrow, and intoned gravely, "Is this true?"   
  
Brian gratefully nodded. "Uh-huh. She's out cold at the moment, so I wanted someone to have a look at her. Please?"   
  
For a moment the older man wavered. Then he pinched the throbbing spot between his eyes and sighed, waving them away. "But not you," he said suddenly, catching the other boy's shoulder and pulling him backwards a little. "I'd like a word with you if you don't mind, Spider-Man."   
  
Brian shot the kid a sympathetic look, but wasted no time in clearing out of there. _Just our luck, really,_ he though grimly as Magneto's voice echoed behind him. _Just our bum luck that our only healer is the one to go get hurt! Better warn whoever's in the lab that Magneto'll be along soon to find out why Jane disappeared like that. Wouldn't want to be in their boots when he gets there._   
  
*******************  
  
"I believe you have something to ask me, young Spider-Man?"   
  
"Huh?" came Peter's intelligent reply.   
  
"Dazzler came to me last night," began Magneto, "and she told me that you had a question to ask."   
  
"Oh..." Peter trailed off and looked down, unable to meet the powerful man's eyes. "I..." He scratched the back of his head as he tried to start again. "The night you rescued me, I was with my Aunt May and my... my friend, Mary-Jane Watson. I was wondering if maybe - "   
  
"If maybe they survived? No."   
  
Peter's heart shattered. He gaped in disbelief at the older man as he continued.   
  
"When I arrived, you were the only one left to save."   
  
Before Peter could respond, the self-proclaimed saviour of Earth turned on his heel and disappeared through a door, leaving him suddenly dark and so alone it was almost like he couldn't breathe.   
  
"... dead...?"   
  
*******************  
  
It had been the last chemistry class. The students, usually so noisy and rebellious, had been oddly quiet. The whispered words of 'mutants', 'disease' and 'demon' had done more to terrify and subdue them than any of their teacher's calls for order. Mutants were the hot topic for conversation, and fear was as rife as the hatred towards them that lingered in the atmosphere.  
  
Things had gone well that lesson, he'd thought. Though he felt that such a quiet, fearful class was not altogether good. He liked the vibrant energy of teenagers, the imagination and the interest they could show in the world - if not always his particular subject. Such peace, such... order, was almost unnatural.   
  
When the first bangs and slammings were heard, when the first sounds of heavy, booted footfall rang throughout the school corridor, Hank had called for calm in his suddenly rowdy class.   
  
"Stay in the room," he had ordered. "Whatever it is, I'm sure the Principal will sort it out."  
  
  
  
He'd neglected to mention that Miss Darkholme had not come to the faculty meeting that day; nor had she been seen by any of the other teachers all week. Still, whatever the ruckus was, it was probably nothing to do with them.   
  
How wrong he had been.   
  
It all happened very quickly. The men, with hard boots, helmets and guns, kicked open the door to his class. Hank heard a single shout of, "It's in there!" Then noise had filled his world.   
  
He'd ducked down behind his solid oak desk as the bullets rattled and roared out of the guns, and cowered as the dreadful screams rent the air.   
  
His pupils did not have solid oak desks.   
  
Then, all at once, it had stopped. As suddenly as it began, it ended. The only sound left was that of some liquid pouring and dripping onto the floor. Hank had peeped around the desk, and looked into a room of dead things. Splattered blood, listless eyes, breathless mouths - dead children.   
  
Over the sound of his own violent vomiting, he'd heard the gunmen speak.   
  
"We missed one."  
  
  
  
"Ah, it's just a teacher. Most mutants coming though are teenagers. Don't you know anything? No, I reckon we got that suspected mutie the bigwigs told us about, all right."  
  
And then Hank had known. He had been the one they were after. He had been the one the students had died for. They'd killed 27 youths, for him. Gone - the dreams, the hopes, the aspirations of the young. Gone - the enthusiasm, the future, the life of those teenagers who hadn't even a chance to make something of their existence. Gone, for him.  
  
For him.  
  
Hank had felt the change, and for the first time since fighting it off in his own high school days, he'd welcomed it. He'd welcomed the power, the blue fur, the dexterity - everything. He'd welcomed the chance to give those monsters what they wanted, to give them their Mutie.   
  
They had fallen like rag-dolls before him. He remembered a shoddy, self-painted 'Friends Of Humanity' T-shirt, before he ripped the owner's heart out; heard a gasp of 'the Bayville Demon!' before he crushed the man's windpipe. He'd been crazed - totally and utterly. That was the only explanation. It was his mutation and his grief that had made him do such terrible things.  
  
But when the blood of the guilty was intermingled with the blood of the innocent, and he saw what he'd done, he'd run.  
  
  
  
Months later, *he* had found him. Found the Beast. And tamed it. Erik, with his soft words and understanding pushed back the creature and brought forward the man again. Hank. Hank McCoy. He promised him that one day they would make a New World, a bright, honest place, where Hank could teach the new generation of mutants. If he would just go with him to that place in the sky...  
  
Of course, Hank had accepted. He owed his pupils that much.  
  
That had been a long time ago. Together, they had built the station on Asteroid M. Together they had started to rebuild the lives of so many young people. And together they had started work on genetically bringing back that lost generation.   
  
Though, for that last part, they had needed the help of another.   
  
Now, however, Hank was embroiled with looking after a single little girl. A little girl who, alongside the stasis chambers, had made all the difference in their successes thus far.  
  
"How is she?" Erik asked.   
  
"She'll be fine, I think," Hank replied. "She seems to have overexerted herself, but other than that I can't really say what's wrong. She's just worn out, though how it happened so quickly... Anyway, with rest and a few medicines, she'll fully recover."  
  
"Good. Have you heard anything of our friend, yet?"  
  
There was no need for names. Hank knew to whom he was referring. "No, and I don't expect to for a while, to be honest. Last time we talked, if you remember, he said he was concerned with happenings elsewhere. He said it in such a tone that led me to believe he felt his business was actually concluded here. For the time being at least. The artificial wombs were successful, even if the foetus' didn't take."  
  
  
  
"Really?" Erik's response was dry.   
  
"Indeed. When I asked him why he had to go, he gave an extremely cryptic answer. He said, 'I am a gardener, and the world is my garden. This patch of land is growing nicely, now, but I have other seeds to sow, and other plants to attend'."   
  
"How poetic. And you believed him?"  
  
"As much as I believe anything he says. I don't trust him, Erik. I don't trust him one bit."  
  
  
  
Erik sighed and turned to face the window, watching the dark form of Earth roll below him. "Yes, Hank," he said at last.   
  
Hank was one of the few allowed to use anything but a codename as a title up here. Some of the others had started doing it anyway - Brian, the Jamies, Jane - but Hank had asked specifically at the beginning. Something to do with controlling his wilder instincts.   
  
Erik went on. "There are few things in this world, in this universe, that I am certain of anymore. But one thing I *am* sure of, is that our friend Mr. Essex is more than he pretends to be."  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
******************* 


	21. Faith

A/N ~ And there was much rejoicing at the groovy reviews... Seriously, thanks to all for those. You really have no idea how much they are loved and cherished. Like little tiny children.   
  
So we have... *counts* three in favour of Robyn staying alive, and three... not. Yay for my wide vocabulary. Ah well, can't please everyone.  
  
Hootild; Glad you like Hank and Spider-Man. And as for Erik's knowledge about Peter... well, therein lies the rub. See, Erik thinks Peter's a naturally occurring mutant like himself. He doesn't know about the spider bite or any of that. So the sh... guano should really hit the fan when someday he figures out one of his acolytes is really just a plain 'ole homo-sapien - i.e. 'the enemy'.  
  
Ezrajade; Yeah, Hank never gets a good lot in life, does he? I wonder why people feel the need to torture him so much? It's like some compulsive thing. Now where did I leave that pink dye...  
  
Person; First off, your pseudonym made me laugh. Nothing like being descriptive. Secondly, I'm glad you appreciated the way Robyn's death was handled. Thirdly, I'm sorry you were exposed to bad fiction. There's nothing worse than persevering with a story in the hopes it will get better, only to find that, no, it's pure crap through and through. Hopefully this fic won't turn out to be like that.  
  
Ambrosia; I suppose Robyn's death *could* be seen as a copout. Then again, since I know what happens in a few chapters' time, it's not really. The fic shall make amends. Besides which, we're dealing with an essentially Marvel universe here, and since when has any Marvel character ever stayed dead? Well, except for Cypher, but that's another matter entirely...  
  
Remedy=Chill; You talked about Robyn's death? Where? What was said about it? Details, please. I'm nosy and shameless, and want to know what people who haven't reviewed think. ;) Plus, you're parting comment last time reminded me of Big Brother. *Shivers*  
  
UnknownSource; Twistiness shall rule over everything, mwahahahaaaa! Ahem, or not. Mmm, Twister ice-lollies... But I digress. Like I said before, Robyn's death was something we actually had several disagreements on during production, which is how she ended up in a state of unlife and then life again. You bring up a good point about loss of innocence, so I hope people were paying attention; but yeah, Kurt not being suicidal is a good thing. Or is it...?  
  
Krazy Xanadu; 'So how is it... that Jamie managed to survive? Did he join with Magneto right away? Or did 'e just get lucky?' Which ones? There's more than one Jamie nowadays, and nobody's quite sure which is the original. The Jamies up on Asteroid M were those rescued by Magneto when he arrived at the initial scene where the mob had beaten the one boy into hundreds of bodies. The Jamies still on Earth are either clones created afterwards by survivors, or else those who wandered off before Mags arrived and so couldn't be reabsorbed. Therefore they went and made new lives for themselves in the Big Wide World.  
  
Yma; I noticed! Just because I didn't say so didn't mean I hadn't noticed!  
  
Tenshiamanda; Short and sweet. Go Daisy!  
  
Kookiedoe; Essays are evil. I've had to write far too many than is good for my mental stability. Happy you like the fic, though.  
  
ChaosCat; Yes! A new reviewer who knows who's Marvel and who's an OC! Captain Britain is an underused character, we felt, so we included him instead of better-known characters. There's mor scope for someone barely used in the canon. Personally, I think he fits in quite nicely up there. Gives a bit of multiculturalism to the group. Hope you can review again soon.  
  
  
  
*******************  
  
Twenty-first Fragment ~ 'Faith'  
  
*******************  
  
Mystique looked on with quiet concern. They were all so tired; so very, very tired. Even Logan had collapsed onto one of the seats, and his snores reached her ears easily, though she was at the other end of the compartment.   
  
The details she had were sketchy, gasped out mostly by Kurt when he, Logan and the girls arrived back. She'd been horrified to see Robyn outside - even more so upon learning what had nearly happened. She had relieved her son of his adoptive sister immediately, allowing him to crash out on the back seats where Pietro usually sat.   
  
There had still been no sign of the speedster, and though she didn't voice it, Mystique was worried.  
  
Daisy, of course, was still firmly in Logan's cradling arms, even as the two of them slept. There had been a small driblet of blood from her nose earlier, but that had stopped now, and her face had smoothed from its unexpectedly strained expression. She had new wrinkles now, making her scales rub together as they overlapped in the creases.   
  
It took a lot to bring out a latent mutant power so young.   
  
Mystique sat, gently smoothing Robyn's hair. She could hear Rogue, Kitty and Lance talking outside, but their voices were too soft to make out any actual words.   
  
Alvin had disappeared. He'd brushed past her earlier with an alacrity that was strange for him. He'd been distracted about something, that much was clear, and hadn't even acknowledged her when she'd asked what was wrong.   
  
_He shouldn't really go off alone like that,_ she thought ruefully. _There's no telling what could happen out there._   
  
Still, he *had* survived the trip from Ororo to Bayville unscathed, so perhaps he knew what he was doing.   
  
Perhaps.   
  
Robyn's tail twitched, brushing her leg and returning her to the present. Mystique jumped, and then glanced out of the window.   
  
Pietro *should've* been back by now. It was a good thing Kurt wasn't awake. Yet another thing for him to worry about.   
  
Despite having Logan around, it hadn't escaped anyone's notice that Kurt was the undisputed leader of their motley group, and prone to worrying about everybody and everything, right down to the smallest detail. Having the speedster vanish like this would shoot his already frayed nerves to ribbons, and if nothing else, she wanted to spare him that tiny amount of stress as long as she could. Pietro was a survivor, she told herself. He'd be okay, wherever he was, and soon be back with more medicines for poor Robyn.   
  
Robyn. To paraphrase the song: she wasn't sick, but she wasn't well. Her fever had abated a little, and her breathing seemed easier, but she was still listless, and her furry little face was drawn and ill. Could she see beneath the fur, Mystique suspected the cat-girl was deathly pale, too. It was a miracle she was alive at all, and the shapeshifter hugged her surrogate daughter that little bit tighter in thanks to whatever deity had chosen to let Daisy's power come early.   
  
The details as to what Daisy's ability actually *was* could be worked out later. For now, gratefulness was the only thing anyone could feel. Mystique couldn't have faced losing another daughter after regaining her first so suddenly.   
  
The thought made her eyes travel to the door, and the warm glow of the campfire outside.   
  
Rogue.   
  
Something had been seriously wrong with her earlier, back in that godforsaken town, but when questioned she'd only mumbled something about headaches and waking nightmares. Mystique was worried, but had chosen not to press the subject if Rogue was unwilling to talk about it just yet.   
  
_Perhaps I'm just making up for lost time, and lumping all my worries together._  
  
Outside, Baby Hope started up a piteous mewling for milk, and Kitty laughed a motherly chuckle.   
  
Mystique smiled. Motherhood was a blessing, and despite what anyone said, she wasn't going to let it slip through her fingers again. Not for Rogue, Kurt, Robyn, Daisy - not even for Pietro, though God knew he resisted her maternal advances like the plague. She couldn't blame him really, but resolved to persevere until he realised her intentions were true this time.   
  
If he got back, that was.   
  
No, not if - when! When he got back.   
  
Mystique chewed her lip and carried on gently stroking Robyn's damp hair. Her children were her priority now - both biological and adoptive - and she was damned if she was going to let them down when they needed her the most.   
  
Not this time.   
  
*******************  
  
Alvin sat in a pool of shadow, motionless save for the stiff breeze ruffling his hair. The wind sighed around him, and the sky overhead was lightening to a lighter shade of black. Yet he paid them no heed.   
  
He'd gone without sleep for many long hours now, but he'd never felt less like slumbering in his entire existence. Not even in his previous life as a bank clerk, before the X-Virus hit and devastated all he knew and loved.   
  
He'd tried to kill a child.   
  
The realisation had struck him moments after Kurt teleported. He'd actually suggested ending her life in cold blood. Him. A preacher, and supposed advocate of living. Any other missionary would never have considered such a thing, and he hung his head in shame at the revelation that maybe... maybe he wasn't good enough to be numbered amongst the Goddess' faithful any longer. He'd been away from her lands for so long... perhaps he'd forsaken her ways after all he'd seen on this journey.  
  
Kurt's face, so distraught and angry, haunted his mind, and he touched the mark where the elf had struck him. Kurt had been entirely within his rights to do so, of course, and in his heart of hearts Alvin couldn't really blame him for his reaction. There was a small scab now where the trickle of blood had dried into a hard crust ending just above his jawline. He ran his fingertips along it and sighed dejectedly.   
  
"Oh Goddess," he murmured, wondering whether she'd hear him. In the Old World one had to be sincere of faith for any deity to hear. Questioning his beliefs probably wouldn't help prayer any, but still, he'd been doing it for so long now, and speaking his thoughts aloud like this helped him clear his head.   
  
"Goddess, I'm lost. I think I've strayed from your path, and I can't find the way back on my own. I remained faithful to you for so long... why is it that now I wonder about myself? About my loyalty to your cause?"   
  
His only answer was the wind, and it spoke in a tongue he couldn't understand.   
  
"What am I doing? Talking to myself in the middle if the wilderness... do I think I'm Jesus or something?"   
  
It was one of the first times he'd thought about the old faiths since joining the ranks of the Goddess, and somehow it left him feeling slightly bitter. Prior to the great plague, Alvin hadn't been a particularly religious man.   
  
Strange how an apocalypse could change a person's perspective on things.   
  
Sickness had taken his family from him - wife, daughter, baby son. Even his old mother who had lived in the attic of their rambling detached house. He'd thought he had nothing left to believe in until the Goddess came to Earth in his broken-down town and made things green again. Faith had since become his rock, his still point, his guiding light.   
  
_So why is it failing me now?_  
  
He tilted his face heavenwards. "Goddess, please help me. Please. Will Kurt forgive me for what I almost did? He seemed so... so angry. Furious. He is the forgiving sort, but never before has the life of his sister been threatened so openly. I saw the betrayal in his eyes. I'm not a fool." He considered the words for a moment. "Or am I? I... oh, Goddess..." And he fell to weeping into his hands for want of anything else to say.   
  
*******************  
  
"Seer? Seer!" Ororo grabbed loosely at the nearest person. "Turn this chair around!"   
  
The woman she'd caught at blinked in surprise. "What is it, Goddess? What's the matter?"   
  
Concern made Ororo's tone sharp. "Can't you see? Turn me around, quickly. Something's wrong with Seer!"   
  
The trio of robed followers hastily did as she bid and wheeled her back towards where the gargoyle-like mutant had dropped out of the sky. The fall hadn't been far, thank goodness, but he lay on the ground, dazed and with a strangely familiar glazed look in his amber eyes.   
  
Ororo cursed that she couldn't get out of her chair, appreciating how Charles must have felt. "Seer? Seer, what's wrong? Is it another Vision?"   
  
He blinked groggily at her, gaze coming slowly back into focus as she called to him. Abruptly he blinked, and was back among the living once more. "I-I felt great sadness. Pain. It was startling; it overwhelmed me, and... and I couldn't concentrate on staying in the air."   
  
"Are you hurt?"   
  
He shook his head. "No, but whomever it was I sensed is. On the inside. It was one of those sent out, still alive. He was... unsure of something. Something important to him. I felt him adrift. Unconnected. He feels alone amongst many."   
  
Ororo's eyes shone, and she leaned forward despite the ache it caused in her chest. One of the wanderers yet lived? "Did you see who it was?"   
  
Seer looked contrite. "No, all I sensed was a jumble of feelings, a few hazy images. He's done something and feels ashamed of himself. Something involving a... a child." The mutant rubbed at his head. "It was so powerful, like he was *trying* to make contact, or something."   
  
"Perhaps he was." Ororo's face was distant, accentuating the haggard lines around her eyes. The trio of woman fussed to tuck her blanket further around her legs, and she didn't stop them. She'd learned long ago that it was useless to do so, and more often that not just hurt their feelings.   
  
Seer got unsteadily to his feet and flexed first one wing, and then the other, checking for damage. There was none, and he shot her an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry, but I have to get back to patrol. There haven't been any hostile sightings for a few days, but that's not to say that nobody's out there."   
  
"Yes, go," Ororo waved him away with a nod and a smile. "You can climb the Birthing Building to get gliding height. Just don't like Kathy Midwife spot you."   
  
"After last time? No fear." Seer smiled tightly, and strode away with a purposeful air. Perhaps more so than he felt after the strange, heartrending vision.   
  
Whoever it was out there, he wished them well, and hoped they'd be all right until they could return home again.  
  
It was all he could do. And that was what pained him.  
  
*******************  
  
Lance poked the fire with a stick and watched as a few lazy sparks spewed forth to be blown away on the cool air. Morning was coming, but they let their small fire burn anyway. For the heat, if nothing else.   
  
Hope was snuggled in Kitty's arms, firmly clamped to the young mother's breast. Lance used to think the idea of breastfeeding repulsive, but now when he looked at the two of them he instead felt an overwhelming surge of fatherly joy, and way back in the crannies of his mind a paternal protective instinct pricked his consciousness.   
  
"You OK, hon?" he asked suddenly.   
  
Kitty's face jerked up, surprised, but she smiled at him and nodded. Hope let go long enough to rub blindly at her nose, and then mouthed to find her food source again. Kitty laughed and helped her to it.   
  
Rogue sat a little distance from the couple, observing them with interest. She'd probably learned more about them in the conversation they'd just had than from the copious hours of travelling so far. They were an odd couple, by her standards, but there was an underlying bond between them she was trying to puzzle out. Caught somewhere between loyalty and affection, she wondered what had ultimately pushed them to produce a child. Sure, they said they'd been afraid they were the only mutants left, but one baby? What did they expect one little babe to do for the situation?   
  
"Penny for them?"   
  
Rogue jolted, "'Scuse me?"   
  
"Your thoughts," said Kitty. "Penny for your thoughts? You're very quiet, is all."   
  
"Oh... nothing interesting, believe me." Rogue sniffed, glancing out beyond the pool of light. "Shouldn't Pietro be back by now?"   
  
"He's a big boy," Lance shrugged. "He can take care of himself."   
  
"I suppose. Any idea where Alvin went?"   
  
"Alvin?" Lance screwed up his face in thought. "Actually, now that you mention it, no. Wonder where that screwball scurried off to."   
  
"Lance!" Kitty chided, but her partner only shrugged again.   
  
"What? S'the truth, ain't it? That guy's got more than a few screws loose. Hell, he's missing a couple of nuts and bolts, too."   
  
"He's helping us," Kitty reminded him sternly, "And I, for one, count him as a friend. God knows we need them in places like this." Inadvertently she shivered.   
  
"Cold?" Rogue offered the blanket she'd been wearing, rising to her feet and placing it gently around Kitty's shoulders.   
  
"Thanks," the younger girl replied, and tucked Hope's swaddling a bit tighter.   
  
Rogue smiled down at them, contemplating how incongruous their small scene of serenity was when set against the torn background of the vice-ridden city they'd just passed through. In a way, it was good to see such things; but at the same time it was frightening. How long could scenarios like this one last? How long would they be *allowed* to continue?   
  
Lance poked at the fire again, drawing her attention to it. Rogue stared into the flames, lost in thought. So it startled her a little when Lance's voice cut into her contemplation suddenly.   
  
"Hey, wuzzat?"   
  
"Huh? What?"   
  
"That." Lance indicated to the dusky horizon, which had lightened to a shade of grey not unlike mould.   
  
Rogue squinted, her eyesight not much better than his. "Looks like... a dust cloud."   
  
"Dust cloud?" Kitty repeated, perplexed, and turned. A breeze wafted into her face, blowing grains of sand against her glasses.  
  
"Hey, wasn't that the direction Pietro went, earlier?" said Lance.  
  
Rogue nodded, narrowing her eyes further. "And if I'm not mistaken, then that dust cloud's the little speed demon's handiwork. Looks like he's decided to grace us with his presence at last. About darn time, too."   
  
"Is that... someone with him? It looks as if there's someone piggy-backing. Or am I seeing things?"   
  
"Y'ain't seein' nuthin', rock-tumbler," Rogue replied firmly. "Looks like old Pie-Pie's picked up another stray. And after all he was saying about supplies, too. Hypocrite." But she was smiling as she said it.   
  
Lance got to his feet, and together, the trio plus one baby awaited their prodigal speedster's rapid return.  
  
"HOOOOOOO*YEAH*!" Pietro came to a halt at the camp. "We'resaved, we'resaved. LookIbroughtmoremedicineforthepipsqueak! An'Ifoundanativeguide. Youshouldseehim, hegetseverywhere."   
  
"Jamie Madrox," said the newcomer, thrusting out a hand. "We've been looking for you, believe it or not. Your coming was fortold."   
  
"*More* prophecies?" scoffed Lance, not shaking. Instead, he stuffed his own hands in his pockets. Travelling for so long had made him wary of strangers. Especially when they carried swords.  
  
"*Laaa-ance*..." Kitty scolded.   
  
"I've yet to hear one word from these things that can be proven," he sulked.   
  
Madrox dropped to a crouch near Kitty and stared at the baby. "Her name's Hope, isn't it?"   
  
"It's a common name," Lance defended stubbornly. "Especially in this day and age."   
  
"I also know that out of all of you, only one person riding this bus is *not* a mutant." Madrox folded his arms. "How common is *that*?"   
  
"Er..." Lance coughed. "You're a bit late with those medicines, Speedy."  
  
"Wh... whaddya mean? She's not... ohmyGodshe'snotdeadisshe?" Pietro gulped, slowing down for their benefit. "... is she?"   
  
"Ah... sort of..."  
  
"Shit, no!" he swore, and those who could see them were surprised at the sudden tears that sprang to his eyes. They shone in the weak new morning light, and his throat bobbed uncertainly. "No, no, *no*! I can't be too late! I*can't*be! I'mthefastestmutantalivenothingcancatchme, Ijust*can't*betoolate!"  
  
  
  
Kitty took pity on him. "You're not. Robyn's alive."  
  
"Say what?"  
  
"She's alive, dipwad. No thanks to you taking so long, though." And Lance fell into the entire story, whilst Pietro and Madrox listened, open-mouthed.   
  
"A miracle," the latter gasped at the end. "The Lord must have heard your prayers and sent down an angel to heal his Chosen! Praise be to Him!"   
  
"Oh great, another nutball."  
  
"La-ance!"  
  
Lance grumped, folding his arms and thinking rebelliously, _Looks like we exchanged one religious weirdo for another._  
  
"Who's this?" demanded a gruff voice.  
  
  
  
He turned to see Logan stepping out of the bus, supporting a tired looking Kurt. It appeared they'd awoken at the jubilant shout heralding Pietro's return.   
  
Madrox introduced himself quickly, whilst Pietro sniffed, asked about both Daisy and Robyn, and then rattled off about Mutie Town.   
  
"Andhesaysit'sjustformutantswithnohumansoranything, an'there'slotsoffoodandwater, andtheyallworktogetherandthey'rewaitingforthismessiahorsomething, andtheysayI'minaprophecyinsomebookan'I'mimportant ::gasp:: heseemsreallyinterestedinmebecausehethink'sI'mamessiah, andIthinkhe'snutsforthinkingthat, butitdoesn'tmatter - "   
  
"Hold up there, squirt!" Logan growled, bringing him to a screeching halt. "Now, what in the hell is a 'Mutie Town?"  
  
At a speed they could understand, Madrox explained. Mutie Town was a poor man's Lands of New Hope, replete with its own purported deity - though, he admitted, their 'Lord' hadn't come down to fetch them, yet. It was a haven for any mutant seeking shelter in the wastelands hereabouts, and filled to bursting with the remnants of Mutantkind not taken by hatred, hunger or the virus.  
  
By mutants, with mutants, for mutants.  
  
"Place got a healer?" Logan asked tersely, obviously thinking of the children. Daisy was weaker than a newborn kitten, and Robyn still had sickness clinging to her like a wet limpet. Not to mention the general exhaustion making the rounds amongst their ranks. Elf in particular wasn't looking too hot, and Raven still needed some weight on her if she was going to...  
  
He shook the thought away, avoiding her eye through the window to boot. No time to think of things like that. Survival first.  
  
Madrox nodded at his question. "We have one main healer, and a few kids whose powers are just growing in if needs be." Then he blinked at Logan. "Are you the steward?"  
  
"'Scuse me?"  
  
"Two dance eternally, steward of six walks road of holes."  
  
"Hey, wasn't that your prophecy, Mr. Logan?" said Kitty. Lance harrumphed, and she neatly elbowed him in the ribs.  
  
Logan nodded, satisfied. This kid had shown a lot of guts coming into their camp when he knew they were all mutants. Quoting that titbit had, though not completely convinced the terminally suspicious mutant, certainly gone a long way to convincing Logan of his sincerity.  
  
"Which way is this Mutie Town?"   
  
Smiling, Madrox gave some rough directions.   
  
"Hmm, seems it's on our way anyhow. Awright folks, let's get movin'."  
  
They started to pack up, gathering the newly acquired medicines and kicking sand on the fire.  
  
Suddenly, Kitty cried out. "Hold on! What about Alvin?"   
  
"Can't afford to wait 'round here too long, Half-Pint," Logan said with a glance at the bus. "We gotta get movin' *now*. Time ain't exactly on our side. We can spare a few minutes, but unless God Boy pulls his socks up an' joins us, we can't afford to wait for him."  
  
  
  
"But he's all alone in the wilderness. We can't just leave him there," she persisted.  
  
  
  
"He's only a human," said Madrox in a bemused tone of voice. Logan shot him a curious, almost annoyed glance, but said nothing.   
  
"Look, Kitty-Kat," said Lance, "he was wandering the wilderness alone when we found him, right? He'll be fine."  
  
"No, he won't." Kitty tilted her chin at where she heard his voice. "You might not believe me, but I think something's wrong with him. He's never not told us where he's going before, and when he left, his breathing was so heavy - he was really upset about something."   
  
"Oh, for God's sake, Kitty," Lance snapped, "the guy was a complete nutter! We're better off without him anyway."  
  
Kitty looked horrified. She turned in Logan's direction, knowing Kurt was standing by his side. Kurt was the voice of reason and their leader. He wouldn't just leave one of their own alone out there with raiders and whatnot about. "Kurt," she said softly, "please, we have to find him."  
  
  
  
"He wanted to kill Robyn," Kurt said, equally soft. "That's why he ran off. He wanted to give her a mercy killing. As far as I'm concerned..." his voice turned oddly harsh, grating unpleasantly in his throat, "as far as I'm concerned, he can *rot* out there!"   
  
A dreadful look passed over Kitty's face. It was full of pity, shock, and disillusionment, all mixed up and splashed about her features. Then it was replaced by one of anger and determination.   
  
"Fine," she said, very quietly but very firmly. "If you won't go look for him, then I will."  
  
"Kitty!" Lance exclaimed. "You're blind, you can't - "  
  
"I can do exactly what I want to do, Lance Alvers! I can still call out, and I can still hear, and that's enough. If any of you want to help me, you can. Not that I expect you to. Sometimes," she curled her lip in an expression they'd never seen on her face before - one of disgust, "I feel like I'm the only sighted person here."  
  
With that, she grabbed the twisted, stout stick Alvin had previously been using for a staff and, clutching Hope to her chest, staggered off into the wasteland, calling his name.   
  
"Kitty! Kitty, come back!" Lance started after her, but felt someone catch his arm. He looked back to see who it was.   
  
Kurt stared soulfully at him, golden eyes huge and pleading. "Don't," he said, but was prevented from saying more by Lance roughly breaking loose and rounding on him.   
  
"I'm not leaving her to wander alone out there!"   
  
"I wasn't suggesting that you do," Kurt replied calmly, not a waver to his voice. Kitty wasn't yet out of sight of the campfire, and his nocturnally enhanced eyesight had no trouble picking her out from the gloom. "I meant that *I'd* go fetch her. My eyes, you see," he indicted to them. "They're better in the dark."   
  
Lance regarded the elf for a moment, looking between him and Kitty. Then he sneered.   
  
Kurt took an involuntary step back at the older boy's tone, and behind him Logan arched an eyebrow.   
  
"You'd like that, wouldn't you Freakshow? Just you and her alone out there? Don't try to deny it. I know your little game. Ever since we joined your stupid party you've been trying to take her away from me. You thought I hadn't noticed? Well, I did. Every single little thing you did, said, every look you sent her way - *everything*. Forget it, Fuzzy. Kitty's my responsibility. *I'll* go after her. I don't like this Alvin character, but if *she* wants to look for him, then that's exactly what we're gonna do! *Without* you or your patchwork friends!" And he turned on his heel and pounded after Kitty into the darkness.   
  
Rogue started to go after them, but, fast as lightning, Logan was at her arm, pulling her back. He shook his head and nodded at Kurt's slightly dazed expression.   
  
"Dissent in the ranks, Stripes. We go after them, then that rock-buster's liable to do somethin' stupid, like abandon the group altogether."   
  
Rogue frowned. "He wouldn't, would he? That's pure idiocy! There's safety in numbers."   
  
"I've seen his type 'afore, kid. He feels threatened by the Elf, like Kurt's tryin' to take his place with his girl. She likes Kurt - quite a bit as it happens - and he's just tryin' to make sure she don't forget about him for someone else. Natural reaction, but could cause problems if we don't handle it right."   
  
Rogue turned back to the murk where the couple and child had vanished. "But we can't just leave 'em out there. It's too dangerous. *Hope's* with 'em, for God's sake!"   
  
Logan patted her arm and gestured back to the bus. "Who said we were leavin' 'em alone completely? Watch Daisy for me, will ya?"   
  
He slid off into the shadows, silent as the grave and twice as ghostly. There was no chance either Kitty or Lance would spot or hear him, but he'd be there all the same.   
  
Rogue chewed her lip for a moment, and then swivelled to face Kurt. "Come on," she said gently. "Let's go see how Momma and the girls're doin'. Pietro, you and your new friend'll hafta wait a minute until they get back. Watch out for em."   
  
Pietro hopped from foot to foot, agitated and eager for the off. "But how long will they *be*?" he demanded, and looked at the sky. "It'll be morning soon. Travelling in the daylight's dangerous enough as it is, and you know it."   
  
Kurt sighed, catching all their attentions. "Not long," he said. "I know Logan. He'll make sure they find Alvin quickly, even if they don't know he's there, watching over them. He has his ways," he added, cutting off Pietro's question before he even had chance to voice it. "Come on. Perhaps Mama will know which of these medicines are good for Robyn now. Daisy too. Calling on her mutant abilities so young has drained her."   
  
He hefted the remainder of the supplies onto one shoulder and headed into the bus. Those remaining exchanged a curious glance, and then Rogue followed in silence while Pietro and Madrox hunkered down to wait and talk of Mutie Town some more.   
  
*******************  
  
Kitty heard the whistle of the wind, felt the hard, bare earth underneath her worn shoes... and the heavy breathing of Lance.   
  
"You came," she said shortly.   
  
"I... I couldn't leave you on your own, could I?"   
  
"You would've left Alvin." It was less of a statement, more of an accusation.  
  
  
  
"Yeah, but - dammit, I love you, Kitty. I love you more than anything else in this whole fucked up world! Sometimes I do stupid things, yeah, but... I never ever wanna hurt you. If I'm a jerk, if I'm dumb, I... I need you to bring me around. And you always do, and I'm always here, because I love you, and whatever happens that'll never change. Ever."  
  
  
  
She allowed herself a tight smile. "Now you make it sound like you're the blind man and I'm the guide."  
  
  
  
A pause. "Maybe you are," he said at last. "Just not in the normal sense."  
  
"Well then," she said briskly, "I'd better lead, hadn't I? Just try to be quiet so I can hear properly, K? And Lance?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Whatever happens, I love you too. Just so you know."  
  
  
  
Together the tiny family searched, unaware of the dark shadow stalking them, adept as a hunting cat on the prowl. Logan's breath barely stirred the dust motes dancing in front of his calloused, worn face.  
  
It was Kitty who eventually found Alvin. She discovered him by the soft sound of his earnest prayers.   
  
"Alvin..." she called, and the broken man turned to face her.   
  
"Go away," he said softly, so soft that Lance had to strain to hear.   
  
No so Kitty. "Alvin, we're not gonna just leave you out here all alone. Come back with us. It's time to leave."   
  
"I'm not worth any more than that."   
  
"Yes, you are. We'd be lost now if it weren't for you. Alvin..." She bit her lip, not really knowing what to say. Aside from his devotion to Ororo, she realised that none of them actually knew very much about Alvin. They didn't know what made him tick, what he thought of the world, how he felt when they passed through torn, wounded places. He'd never spoken of his life before four years ago, and none of them had even seen fit to ask him about it. He was a mystery. A mystery sitting right there in the middle of them all this time.   
  
_What kind of people are we?_ she wondered, slightly shocked at the group who, though they'd only spent such a small amount of time together, she'd already come to call friends. _Are we so wrapped up in what happened to Mutantkind that we neglected to bother ourselves about the human in our midst? Alvin's been so good to us, and we never even asked him who he really was. What he thinks..._   
  
"Alvin, please. Come back with us. We need you - "   
  
"No, you don't." The preacher's voice was hushed and strained, and there was a strange undertone neither she nor Lance had ever heard him use before. He sounded... unsure of himself. And broken. So terribly, terribly broken.  
  
Both of them blanched, and though she couldn't exchange glances with him, she turned her face to where she knew Lance was looking at her.   
  
Kitty cleared her throat. "Why? Why wouldn't we want you, Alvin? Tell me."   
  
He didn't answer for a second. Then, "Has he not told you, then?"   
  
"Who? Told us what?"   
  
More silence for a second. Then he whispered, "I tried to kill her."   
  
Kitty sucked in a breath of air through her teeth. "Robyn?"   
  
"I tried to kill a child." He didn't appear to have heard her. "In cold blood. I... I knew how to do it; had it all planned out in my mind. I never flinched. Not once. Not until after he'd knocked some sense into me, at least. She's what - four? Maybe five years old? I was going to kill a baby."   
  
Kitty felt Lance's hand twitch towards Hope, and she resisted the urge to bat him away lest she draw Alvin's attention to the movement.   
  
"My own son was her age when he died," Alvin went on. "The plague took him from me - took all my family from me. I felt so lost without them... and I was willing to put Kurt through the same ordeal. I was willing to let her die in his arms, just like Timmy died in mine..."  
  
Kitty's heart split a little more as she listened to him, and she swallowed. Hard. "Alvin." She took a step forward and heard him skitter away slightly, shale and loose stone moving under his clothes. "Alvin, I'm sorry. We didn't know about... your family. But tonight, you did what any doctor would've done, given the circumstances. Robyn was in pain. You just wanted to help alleviate it." She couldn't bring herself to tell him that Robyn had died, even if the little girl had had such a miraculous recovery as well. "Alvin, please. Kurt was just upset. He wasn't thinking... clearly. Emotions do things to a person. That's what caused all this mess, remember?"   
  
She waved a hand around at the tattered landscape. Fear, hatred, and panic - they'd all gone into making the world what it was. They'd all scarred the land. And, to some extent, so had love. The scientists who created the X-Virus had done so with their own loved-ones in mind. They'd been trying to protect their children, their parents, their siblings, their lovers...  
  
Fear had killed the Earth. So had hatred.  
  
So had love.  
  
Hope grumbled in Kitty's arms, and she turned to Lance. "Here, take the baby." He did so, and she knelt by Alvin's side. This time he didn't move away, and she could *feel* that his eyes were turned away from her without having to see them. "Alvin, please. Kurt's only human, like you. We all make mistakes. We all get emotional. It's just a part of who we are - what makes us people. You can't expect yourself to be right all the time."   
  
"But she's... a child..." he murmured, still not looking at her.   
  
"Four years ago, I was just a child. I was fourteen years old when all this started. Alvin, you did the best you could, just like everybody's done. We all cope in different ways. You wanted to help, to take away pain. Sometimes... sometimes *that's* the only way to do it. It's not a pleasant notion, but it's the truth."   
  
Alvin heaved a deep sigh. "Your words make sense," he said slowly, as if mulling them over. "But it's not only that."   
  
"Do you mean Kurt? 'Cause, he's, like, the most forgiving amongst us." She crossed her mental fingers a tad, and hoped Kurt's generous nature would extend to this occasion too, just as it had done with his mother.   
  
However, Alvin shook his head. "I fear that he won't forgive me, but that's not why I can't come back with you. I deserve no more from him."   
  
Kitty's brow puckered. "Then... what is it? What's wrong?"   
  
"I can no longer lead you to the Lands of New Hope. I'm not worthy. I've... I've lost my faith."   
  
Kitty looked at Alvin with eyes that could no longer see. "Lance," she whispered, "Give Alvin the baby."  
  
"But Kitty-Kat..."   
  
"Give Alvin the baby, Lance," she said again, in a suddenly steely tone that brooked no argument.   
  
Slowly, reluctantly, Lance passed little Baby Hope to Alvin and, equally reluctantly, Alvin took her. He tried to resist, but Kitty's blank, sightless stare bored into him like a knife, and he found himself obeying despite himself.   
  
Hope was light and warm, and snuggled against him just like his own son and daughter had once done.  
  
"Now, Alvin," Kitty continued, "I want you to do something. I want you to look at that baby, and I want you to tell her that this has all been for nothing. That there's no hope, none of her namesake left in the world. That mutants and humans are bound to fight forever more until we wipe each other off the face of the Earth. I want you to tell her that there's nothing left that can give her life any joy or happiness. I want you to tell her there *is* no life, that there *is* no hope."   
  
Alvin faltered, caught by the baby' questing hand as it caught at the front of his robes. "I... I... can't..."  
  
  
  
"Exactly. Because you still have faith. Not a faith in a Goddess or a magical realm, but a faith in a dream. A dream that there's some way to make things better; that, one day, humans and mutants can live together, and we can heal the harm we've done to this world."  
  
  
  
"But it... it's too hard." Alvin's eyes were fixed on the baby's. "There is so much hate, Miss Kitty. So much death. You've seen it, perpetuating even after the war's over. Why should we even try? It's so hard to imagine that we could ever succeed against all that we've seen."  
  
"And maybe we never will," replied Kitty softly. "But if we give up all faith, all hope, then we'll fail straight off. Fall at the starting gate. Perhaps, just perhaps, if we just keep trying, then we'll succeed. And if we don't... well, at least we tried. That's got to be worth something. To us, if no-one else." She reached out and laid a hand on his, fumbling to find it until he guided her. "Faith is fundamental, Alvin. You don't need some dressed up deity to have it. Faith in yourself - *that's* what makes us stronger. That's what'll make sure we survive this trip and earn the right to start over."  
  
His hand tightened on hers, and Alvin looked up.  
  
To Lance it seemed that the dark cloud had passed his face, leaving it bright and as bathed in sunshine as the distant horizon. Alvin beamed up at Kitty with an almost adoring look, releasing her fingers and getting to his feet.   
  
"Take me back to the others," he said resolutely. "I'm ready to go home. I'm ready to *lead* you home."  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
******************* 


	22. Forgiveness

A/N ~ Reviews! Oh, how I adore thee. How shall I compare thee to a Summer's day? Thou art more sweet and more adept at making my toes snuggle with delight...  
  
Krazy Xanadu; I can update so fast because the whole thing's pretty much already written. I'm just waiting for some emails to complete the package. From now on, I hope to update on a weekly to bi-weekly basis, but don't quote me on that since I just went back to uni. For the record, everything they tell you about Yr2 being tougher than Yr1... is true. And you're welcome for the Jamie thing.  
  
Kookidoe; Glad to see we reached a more personal level with the last chapter. Hopefully this one won't disappoint in its wake.  
  
Jack B. Nimble; I'm not sure I understand what you mean by layout editing, but thanks anyway for the review. Powerful... now there's a word I never thought I'd hear describing this fic. Nice, though.^_^  
  
Risa; phew, what a review. First off, I have to thank you just for taking the time to write such a lot. Todd's death, like so much in communal fiction, is something nobody was really expecting. It just sort of... happened. Still, the fact that you persevered despite that and didn't run screaming for the hills upon seeing the OCs has got to be a good sign. The 'family' bits and pieces pop up so much because there were often days to weeks between people posting during production, which means our sense of time was distorted somewhat. We thought it had been a few days since we mentioned it, but in reality, it had only been about half a page. -_-;; Daisy's accent is pretty much at your own discretion. It seems your id likes to torture you that way. And as for Grandpa Wolverine... well, it *could* happen...   
  
hootild; that'll be twenty dollars a ticket, please.  
  
Yma; I know. Interesting humans are just *so* last Tuesdays. Tchah, who'd want to right about *them*? Now get back to 'Watch and Learn', pronto!  
  
UnknownSource; WOOT! Another characterisation fiend! I knew I'd find one eventually. Yeah, Kitty stood out in that chapter. In my humble opinion, slightly more than Alvin, even. She and Lance had been ignored quite a bit up until that point, so it was only fair to let them have some of the spotlight.   
  
Please keep the reviews coming. I'll reply to each and every one of them, so pretty please with syrup and sprinkles on top. Please return your seat to an upright position and fasten your safety belts.  
  
*******************  
  
Twenty-second Fragment ~ 'Forgiveness'  
  
*******************  
  
Those assembled on the bus looked up as Logan slipped silently aboard. He said nothing, but made his way purposefully to Kurt, who was cradling a sleeping Robyn.   
  
"Elf, we need to talk."   
  
Kurt arched an eyebrow, and looked around at the others for support. "Can't we talk here?"   
  
"I'd prefer it if we jawed in private."   
  
Sighing, Kurt collected Robyn's blanket and passed her carefully over to Pietro. "You drop her and you're dead."   
  
"Like I would," the speedster replied, leaning back so she'd fit onto his lap properly. He brushed a lock of damp hair from the little cat-girl's face, making her twitch. "Shhh, shhhh, Robyn. I'm here. Fuzzy, he's waiting for you."   
  
Logan tapped his foot, and Kurt got wearily to his feet to follow him out of the door and around to the other side of the bus.   
  
"Look, Elf," Logan started, as soon as they were out of earshot of the others, "I know y'think God Boy done ya wrong, but y'gotta put the past behind ya. For all our sakes."   
  
Kurt snorted and folded his arms, a defiant light in his eyes. "He tried to *kill* Robyn - "   
  
"No, he didn't. He *suggested* lettin' her go, 'cause she was in pain and there was nuthin' he could do for her. He's also just spent the last hour or so freezin' his ass off out there, questionin' all he ever believed in 'cause of it. Elf, I've seen a lotta people in my time. He was this close," Logan pinched his thumb and forefinger together in the air to demonstrate, "to not coming back to us tonight. And when I say that, I don't mean he was gonna just sit on those rocks for the rest of his days, neither."   
  
"So what?"   
  
"Kurt." Logan's voice was low, and Kurt sensed the seriousness in his tone. Logan *never* used real names unless something was well and truly wrong. "He was gonna kill himself. A few more inches and he would've been right over the edge. Said it himself - he got the know-how. If it weren't for Half-Pint and Rocky... I don't like to think what might've happened."   
  
"How do you know? Did he *say* he wanted to top himself?"   
  
"I just know. I seen too much in my life, kid. I recognise the look a man gets when he's considering takin' his own life. It was the same look Alvin had not twenty minutes ago. The only reason he's comin' back now is 'cause Kitty made him believe there was somethin' to keep living *for*."   
  
"And what would that something be?"   
  
"Same thing Chuck always lived for. A dream."   
  
Kurt flinched. "That's low, bringing Herr Xavier into this."   
  
"I'm on the level, Kurt. Alvin's been through a lot in his life. Did y'ever ask him where he came from before the X-Virus? Did y'ever ask him 'bout his family, or what happened to 'em? No? He's only human. Humans make mistakes, just like you or I do."   
  
Again Kurt blanched, and turned his eyes towards the floor.   
  
Logan nodded. "I know it's not somethin' I should throw in your face, but it's true. Y'forgave your Ma for what she did, didn't ya? And weren't you the one lecturin' Speedy 'bout forgiveness not so long ago?"   
  
Kurt mumbled something inaudible.   
  
"What was that?"   
  
"I said; do unto others, as you would have them do unto you. I haven't thought about the Bible in a long time. It used to be a comfort."   
  
"Maybe it can be again."   
  
"Maybe." There was a short silence. "Logan, I... I know I talk big, but... but I - "   
  
"I know, Kurt." Logan punched him gently on the shoulder in an almost fatherly way. "Just let Alvin know too, awright?"   
  
Kurt gave a thin, watery smile. Yet it seemed forced, and when he left Logan still wasn't convinced.  
  
*******************  
  
Jane opened her eyes and smiled at her latest spiritual donor.   
  
"Feeling better?" asked Erik. He ran his hand tenderly along her hair.   
  
Jane nodded.   
  
"What happened? Can you tell me?"   
  
"She needed me," she said simply.  
  
Erik sighed. A complete answer, yet completely useless. Patience and persistence were required to get information out of Jane. "Who did?"   
  
"The girl. She was sad. She called for me."   
  
"Do you know the girl?"   
  
Jane shook her head.   
  
"How do you know she needed you?"   
  
"It's what she does. She's new. Almost as little as me."   
  
A new mutant. "Can you tell me more, darling?"   
  
"When she needs things, she can bring them."   
  
Erik felt a chill invade his entire body. The power to teleport things that were needed... the applications of such a power sparked a multitude of thoughts as well as anxieties. Yet a young mutant would be weak, and perhaps sporadic in the activation of her power. "How old was the girl?"   
  
Jane shrugged. "Maybe ten?"  
  
  
  
Too young. Activation of the X-gene at that small age required artificial boosts - or desperate need. And using it at such magnitude would nearly kill her. Asteroid M to Earth was no easy feat, but to do it twice to send Jane back...  
  
_*Why* do things have to be so *difficult*?_  
  
"Did I do wrong?"   
  
Dammit... it *hurt* every time she repeated her first complete sentence. "No, Jane. You didn't do wrong. I was just thinking sad things." He smiled and straightened up. "Do you want a piggyback to the kitchens?"   
  
Jane grinned and held out her arms. Erik picked her up easily, transferring her small weight to his shoulders. Of such tiny pleasures, a little slice of heaven could be made. If only he could have managed the same thing with his own daughter...  
  
*******************  
  
She staggered out of the manmade desert and into yet another godforsaken ruin of a town, listening to the ramblings of the local populace. Listening for news and clues.   
  
She got it.   
  
There were a group of them, muttering to themselves and loitering by the side of the road. Human men, not much older than herself, but worn by the world to appear many years her senior.   
  
They smiled when they saw her in her tattered, revealing clothes, drawing pocketed hands tighter over groins and sauntering forward. No doubt they mistook her for just another survivor, making a living the only way she could. God knows, there were enough of those sorts around.   
  
She soon cured them of that notion, however, and sent them scurrying for their burrows and hovels with their proverbial tails between their legs. She might have killed them outright, if not for that fact that picking their brains was quite high on her agenda.   
  
She caught one easily as he tried to flee, pinning him down with some unnatural force and standing over him as he trembled and swore. He knew nothing, so she let the inhuman bonds tighten until the tension in her shoulders abated and he lay crushed and broken in the dust, oozing pulpy red ichor.   
  
Another shell for the crows to peck at, she mused, and moved on without a backwards glance.   
  
The next man of that group she came across was better. He was rather rotund, and it was a simple matter of ensnaring his feet with a loop of her power. The adjustments and augmentations made to her abilities in the lab had served some purpose, at least.   
  
She drew him close, demanding information, and was pleased when he talked of a boy, a mutant, who ran so fast that he was barely seen. He'd passed through another town some distance away, over the bridge, raiding it for supplies and streaking away before anybody got a good look at his face. Bad news travelled fast in these parts, if it travelled at all.   
  
The human was so frightened that he gabbled at her, embellishing his story to new heights under her steely gaze. He spoke of a rumour he'd heard, of a whole bus full of people; colourful folk who could only be mutants. And when he said colourful, he meant it in the literal sense. There had been one who could change her shape, and had torn the innocent residents of another village to shreds as a monster because they stopped the bus and asked for supplies. Perhaps her kind? Not that she seemed like a monster, of course, Oh no, no, no, no, no...  
  
There was another mutant, hereabouts, too. One who could control water, and bring out life-giving moisture where there was none. That little one was famous as the only non-hostile mutant to humans, and he'd recently taken to entertaining other children with watery creations that danced like flesh and blood. He'd lead her to him, of course, if she'd only let him go. He had a family, you see. A wife and young child, who looked surprisingly like....   
  
In the end she had to shake him to slow down his speech, but went too far and broke his neck with the force. His body hit the ground with a faint 'floomph', and she sighed.   
  
"Gone again. Is there nobody around here besides these petty humans?" A faint breeze caressed her cheek, and she turned into it. "Pietro. He could only have been talking about you. So, you *are* alive."   
  
Yet more plans were already beginning to hatch in her fractured mind. She smiled to herself as scenario after scenario slid by, each more gruesome and glorious than the last.   
  
However, something the human had said caused her to terminate that train of thought toute-de-suite and address a glitch she hadn't foreseen.   
  
Pietro was with other mutants.   
  
She was strong, stronger than before, but not strong enough to take on too many. Not without perishing before she could carry out her wishes, at least. She needed a way of separating Pietro from them; of getting him on his own and doing what she would without interference from his travelling companions. His... friends?   
  
She gave a loud, barking laugh at that. Pietro? Friends? That little worm was no friend to anyone. Too busy looking after his own skin. No, he was probably just using whomever he was with to his own ends. No doubt as soon as they'd served their purpose he'd turn on them, just like he did her. He was like their father in that respect.  
  
But still, how to do it? How to get him alone? Subtlety wasn't her style, but she was willing to explore every avenue if needs be.   
  
After an hour of thinking, and giggling, and thinking some more, her plan was complete. It was ingenious, even without her madness.   
  
Then she wandered around the settlement until she found him - the other mutant people had been talking about. The water baby. He was with a crowd of children, and a shimmering lizardine shape slunk around them on liquid wings, following the line his finger traced in the air.   
  
He looked up at her approach, and smiled, pale sunlight glittering off the soft golden scales etching his cheeks. His hair was damp, and fell about his shoulder in smooth coils. He could only have been about twelve or so, but it was immediately clear that when he matured fully, this little one would be a handsome devil despite his visible mutation.   
  
There was an aura of peace around him, and she was reminded momentarily of a concept she'd come across as a child, before being locked up. Zen. Letting life flow over you like a river.   
  
_How deliciously ironic._   
  
The children whined when the scaled boy rose, letting the water slosh back into a barrel by his side and ending their fun, but he waved a hand at them and called out to her merrily.   
  
She realised with a jolt that he was selling his powers. The whore. Consorting with humans on a social level - and enjoying himself too, by the looks of it! He was young, innocent - stupid; and she walked up with a smile, letting him think she was just another human in want of a drink until it was too late.   
  
The hex bolt hit him in the stomach; not powerful enough to rupture anything, but with enough potency to wind his little lungs. He fell over, the human children scattering like rats as the remnants of her power curled and fizzled in the air.   
  
She stepped forward and grabbed, pulling him up by his tattered shirt. "Hello, little Water Baby," she cooed, stroking his copper hair almost lovingly. "My, my, aren't you the pretty one? What's your name?" He didn't answer, and she shook him a little, her voice sharpening. "Your name. What is it?"  
  
"A... Ariel," he gasped after a moment.   
  
"Hello there, Ariel. You're going to help me."   
  
"W... why?" he asked, shocked and confused. "What do you want? If it's water you're after, I have plenty. I'll trade. There's no need for violence - "   
  
"I don't want your water!" she snapped, and then dropped her voice. "I have a much bigger plan in mind for you. I need to be somewhere. And you're going to go with me willingly, aren't you?"  
  
He squared his jaw. "Why should I?"   
  
"Because if you do, then you can go home and swim with the birds and fishes, and if you don't, then you'll be moisture on the ground. Isn't that funny?" She laughed, loud and long and chilling.  
  
Ariel's scales almost seemed to pale.   
  
"And... and what if I don't want to help you?" he asked, a hint of rebellion in his tone.   
  
Her eyes narrowed, and with her free hand she sent a burst of her power towards the barrel of water. It punched a hole in the side, and the contents emptied everywhere. Ariel's eyes grew round, and he emitted a small whimper.   
  
"That."   
  
Dragging him behind her, she searched for some transport. She found it in an abandoned car with the roof torn off. It was just about road worthy, but suffered from the inhibiting factor of no gas. There was none about, either, and the street around them had become quiet as death in the wake of her little performance.   
  
In the end she gave up looking and tried giving the engine a few bursts of her Hex power. It started, much to her surprise and delight, and she let out a small whoop of joy.   
  
"*Now* we're getting somewhere! Except for one little thing," she turned to Ariel, who was quivering where she held tightly onto the scruff of his neck. "I can't drive so good. Won't this be an adventure? My first time behind the wheel. Well, almost, but last time doesn't really count. I crashed it in the desert because I was reading. Big rock, then go boom! Such pretty flames, all yellow and bright. Burned up my lovely new book, though, which was bad."   
  
Ariel swallowed, and said quickly, "I can."   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"I can drive. Trader Dan taught all of us, just in case our new owners had cars."   
  
She screwed up her face. "Trader Dan? You were a slave or something, weren't you?"   
  
He nodded.   
  
"Well that'd explain this," she jabbed at the barcode tattoo on his cheek, then drew his face close to hers. "You aren't yanking my chain, are you? 'Cause if you are..." She left the threat hanging.   
  
Ariel nodded, and then shook his head. Finally, he said hurriedly, "I'm not lying. I really can drive. Just... just tell me where to go, and I'll get us there."   
  
She gave him a calculating look for a moment. "Okay, but no funny stuff. You try to fight me or get away, and I'll make you sorry you were born, bucko. Moving targets are no problem." She smiled, knowing it was not a nice smile.   
  
Throwing him behind the wheel, she slid into the passenger seat. "Don't forget your seatbelt now!" she scolded, as she slipped on her own.   
  
Confused by this small piece of pseudo concern, Ariel did as he was told. Then, at her command and direction, he put his foot on the pedal and drove off as fast as the car would take them.   
  
She turned her face to the pummelling wind again and breathed deeply of the cool air that caught in her throat. _Pietro, darling. I'm on my way. I'm coming for you, brother dearest. And I'm going to make you bleed..._   
  
*******************  
  
When Kitty, Alvin and Lance returned to the bus, Kitty had regained custody of Hope and was cradling her with the baby's face in the hollow of her own neck. Lance stood beside her with a hand lightly on one arm, guiding her over what ground was unfamiliar.   
  
He murmured when they reached the door of the bus, and she obediently stepped up, hesitantly searching the air with her foot. Lance bit down on his lip, but didn't try to speak, remembering what she'd said about wanting to do things for herself.  
  
Alvin was a few dozen paces behind, and looked bedraggled and more miserable the closer they got to the vehicle. His bright expression had dimmed when he realised he would have to face Kurt, not knowing if his wrath was still in residence. The zealot's hair was plastered lankly to his forehead with nervous sweat. After all, Kurt could still kick him off this journey and find directions to the Goddess' Lands in one of his books.  
  
He didn't talk to anyone as he returned to his beloved plants and started grooming them; trimming dead leaves and twigs with his fingernails - and his teeth where necessary - plucking out the seedlings of weeds that were parasitising their soil and so on. Rogue and Mystique, sitting a couple of seats back from the plants, tried to engage him into their conversation, but his answers were curt and didn't invite further questions.   
  
Kurt came silently down the stairs from where he'd been tying up Clive and stood a little way behind Alvin. Rogue caught sight of him and suddenly silenced. Mystique continued talking for a few moments, then saw where Rogue was looking and hastily stopped as well.   
  
Alvin didn't look up from where he was working, but surmised from the sharp cut in conversation who had come in. "I'm... sorry for what I said, Kurt. Is Robyn all right?"   
  
Kurt stepped forward until he was standing just behind Alvin and to his side, just out of his field of vision. "Robyn is fine, now." He didn't want to torment Alvin by letting him know that Robyn had died, if only temporarily. "Alvin... I, uh," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for hitting you. Are you hurt?"   
  
Alvin waved a hand dismissively. This normally airy gesture was infused with anomie. He tilted his neck slightly so Kurt could see his jaw where he had been hit. A large, ugly bruise - mostly purpled - had formed there. "Soft tissue damage only," he diagnosed.   
  
Kurt nodded solemnly. He tried to start speaking, to tell Alvin he was forgiven. He managed to start the first syllable of all the different ways he'd planned to forgive him, running through them in his head. _'Alvin, I forgive you.' 'I know that you didn't mean any harm to Robyn, so I forgive you.' 'Robyn died, Alvin, but she's all right now, so everything's okay.' 'I don't care that you tried to fucking kill my sister, Alvin. It doesn't bother me in the slightest that you're a heartless bastard who deserves to - '_   
  
Kurt cut off what he had been about to say with an angry expulsion of breath and stalked back upstairs, fur bristling slightly at both himself and the world at large.   
  
In his wake, Rogue and Mystique's conversation edged tentatively back into the room.   
  
Logan was waiting on the top floor, arms and brows both folded. "Didn't hear no forgivin' goin' on down there, Elf."   
  
"I know," said Kurt, and sat down beside Pietro, taking Robyn from him and stroking her hair as she lay across his lap.  
  
********************  
  
Alvin bit his lip as he tended to the plants, he'd wanted more, of course. In his heart of heart's he'd wanted forgiveness. But it was still too early, and Kurt was still too angry.  
  
  
  
He felt a presence by his shoulder, and turned to see a new person; a boy with a scabbard, of all things, tied to his waist. His jaw was set strongly, and on his breast Alvin noticed the distinctive symbol of Mutie Town. As an antithesis of his own encircled X pendant, it was a red helmet.   
  
"Hello?" he said warily.  
  
The boy only tilted his chin, something defiant in eyes Alvin got the feeling would have been soft and warm in another world. "I've heard about what you did," he spat. "I heard you tried to kill that mutant girl with your stupid plants. Those here want you to stay, and I'll respect that decision. It's their bus, after all. But watch it, flatscan. Watch your back, and watch what you say. I wouldn't want anything... nasty to happen."   
  
With this, he stalked off, a fighter's bearing evident in the way he carried himself. This was someone trained in combat and obviously able to take care of himself.   
  
Alvin sighed, and he felt the engine judder into life as Logan sat down and twisted the exposed wires. The bus was starting off again.   
  
"Well. What was *that* about?" asked Rogue after a moment.   
  
"That young man," Alvin explained wearily, "is a Jamie. Part of the Mutie-Town scouting and protection force. He's a mutant who had some... difficulties with a human mob, resulting in his current condition."  
  
"Condition?" Mystique echoed, frowning.  
  
"We know who he is," said Rogue. "Pietro brought him back here a while ago. Uh, is somethin' up with these Mutie Town guys? He wasn't exactly actin' very friendly to you."  
  
Alvin gave another sigh. "They're not... bad folk," he began. "My people and his... we respect each other. Or tolerate each other, at least. We both love and respect mutants, we both have mutants as leaders. It is in regarding normal humans - flatscans - that we come into conflict. The Goddess believes in a non-violent approach, and thinks that in this world it is possible for humans and mutants to live together, in peace. The people of Mutie Town, on the other hand, believe the opposite. It's not that they're violent by nature, but all of them have lost much to humans, so they're not exactly averse to it, either. They believe in pooling their forces in advance for a counter attack, so they're defensive and cagey. They think that one day their messiah, the 'Lord of the Earth', will one day come down from the sky and help them wipe out the remainder of the human race, leaving mutants the only survivors."  
  
"Lord of the Earth?" Kitty repeated, unintentionally eavesdropping but unable to hold her tongue at this. "That sounds like something your prophecies might call Lance. He has power of the earth, after all."  
  
Lance blinked. "Me, a messiah?" His chest puffed out a little. "Well, who would've thunk it?"  
  
"Uh, actually, he goes by many names," said Alvin.  
  
Lance deflated. "Oh."  
  
Alvin went on, listing off the purported Lord's names and titles on his fingers. "Master of Metal, Lord of Earth, Master of Magnetism - the most basic is simply 'Magneto'. They say he has a normal name as well, like you or I, but I'm not sure what it is - "  
  
"Magneto, y'say?" called the gruff voice of Logan from up front.   
  
As one, they all turned.   
  
"Yes, do you know of him?"  
  
  
  
Logan shrugged, not taking his eyes off what passed for road. "Sort of. Back before all this went down, Chuck - Professor Xavier, to you - warned me 'bout him. Even back then he had some big crusade 'gainst Humanity. Part of the reason why we trained those kids at the Institute so hard was that we could be prepared for him when he came." He sighed and shook his head. "Looks like he was the least of our troubles, huh?"   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
******************* 


	23. Reluctance

A/N ~ Just one word - WOOT! And does anyone know why FF.net seems to have stretched sideways?  
  
Me; Yet another descriptive pseudonym ^_^. Wow, Wayne's World. I haven't watched that movie in years. Thanks for the review and the reminder to go rent it.  
  
Yma; If I remember correctly, that was the scene we ended up scribing together owing to continuity, wasn't it? Methinks the second half occurs in this chapter, too, so more Mad Wanda ensues herein! As for how long this thing is... well, it's long. That all you really need to know ;)  
  
ChaosCat; Hoorah! Another advocate of Robyn clinging onto the mortal coil. And as for what happened to the Braddocks... well, ask and ye shall receive...   
  
Remedy=Chill; Opinion duly noted. Points for mentioning Clive. ^_^  
  
Krazy Xanadu; Whoops, apologies for the late-ish posting of this instalment. Like I said, university n' all. And if you like Kurt and Logan as a duo, then check out Yma's new fic 'Watch and Learn'. *Shamelessplugalert Shamelessplugalert*  
  
The Phantom; Hey, I remember you! You're reading this? Excuse me while I just go faint in the corner... Right, recovered now. Thank you for all your kind compliments; they're appreciated more than you know. Especially the part about the OCs. I'm intensely proud of them. Oh, and the reason you haven't seen me around Melting Point recently is that I've been trying out the non-pop-up button on FF.net, which also means the review box doesn't, er... pop up. Anyway, despite that, I have been reading it, and you're just as consistently good as ever.   
  
UnknownSource; None of the characters are immortal, therefore they're all up for grabs as far as casualties are concerned. Watch this space. Jamie was twelve when the war started, so he'd be about sixteen now. His mutation has therefore grown and evolved along with him, meaning any of them can clone themselves now.   
  
On yet another shameless plug kicker, I'd appreciate it if people could go check out and perhaps review my new fic here on FF.net, called 'Be My Eyes'. It's a new take on the immediately-after-Impact's-final-scene-aftermath scenario, but seen from a completely new perspective - Mystique's.   
  
*******************  
  
Twenty-third Fragment ~ Reluctance   
  
*******************  
  
"Please, I'm thirsty - "   
  
"Keep driving," said the madwoman.   
  
Ariel trembled. "All right. Only, I'm finding it kinda difficult to focus, now. My *eyes* are drying out..."   
  
"Good *God*, why did I have to pick on a wimp? *Okay*. We can *stop*."   
  
Ariel gratefully bought the vehicle to a halt. In moments, he was focussing on the water in the area.   
  
Dead bodies and mostly-empty radiators. He shuddered. This was the third time, and it wasn't any easier. He wanted to be sick - but he also wanted to live.   
  
The shape of water that came to him wasn't a beautiful dragon, but some ugly, knobbly worm-octopus thing that crawled instead of flying. It inched over to the car and somehow managed to slither up the paintwork, squishing and slurping all the way.  
  
"*Must* you do that?" asked the madwoman, drumming her long fingernails on the side of the door.  
  
  
  
"I can't help it," he said. "They reflect my psyche."   
  
She rolled her eyes and looked at the sky. "Just hurry up and drink, then *drive*."   
  
Ariel drank, sliding some of the water over his fragile gills. He couldn't waste any water on tears. Not after the last time. When he was done, he let her re-start the car with that strange, green power of hers, and drove onwards.   
  
After the town, she'd said, there would be a bridge. After what she planned for the bridge, she didn't care what happened. To her or anyone.   
  
Ariel shivered as he drove. He just wanted it to be *over*.  
  
*******************  
  
All three Jamies were sitting cross-legged on the ceiling, facing each other with their eyes closed. Their hands were steepled on either side of them, only the fingertips resting on the metal tiles. Jane peeked through the door, and decided to walk in to ask them if something was wrong. They didn't feel right.   
  
As soon as her foot crossed the threshold, she felt it being yanked upwards, and she jerked the other way, falling flat on her back. "Jamie!" she yelled, alarmed.   
  
None of the Jamies reacted in the slightest.   
  
She panicked and started to run down the halls looking for Erik, calling his name out breathlessly. Something was *wrong*. Something was *very* wrong.  
  
She rounded a corner at top speed and collided into Brian, who had been rushing towards her anguished cries.   
  
"What's wrong, Jane?" he asked, sounding concerned, which was usually about as much emotion as he invested in anything.   
  
"Jamie's wrong," she replied in that habitual way of hers. "He *feels* wrong."  
  
Brian blinked. "Excuse me? Wait - what's he doing?"  
  
"Sitting. He won't move."  
  
"Hmm. And... what else is he doing?"  
  
She frowned. "Nothing. Sleeping, maybe? But there's a ghost in with him. It grabbed my foot and - hey!"   
  
Brian grabbed Jane under one arm and ran towards the forward chambers of the asteroid. All the corridors around here were of the same monotonous, grey guise, with ugly open piping across the walls and ceilings, but he seemed to know where he was going. "Which room was he in?"   
  
Jane looked around. "That one!"   
  
Brian screeched to a halt and peered through the open door. Then he made a vaguely relieved noise. He sat down against the wall next to Jane and put an arm around her. "You had me worried for a minute there, sweetie. There's nothing wrong."   
  
"But the ghost..." she murmured, sinking into his arms. Brian was strong and secure. She always felt better when he held her, like she did with Erik. Even so... "And why doesn't he feel right?"   
  
"There is no ghost. Jamie likes to reverse gravity in the observation lounge sometimes. I think it helps him concentrate."   
  
Jane nodded solemnly, despite not knowing what either gravity or an observation lounge were. "Why doesn't he feel right?" she repeated, some of Brian's calm transferring itself to her via her empathy.   
  
Brian frowned, dark brows pulling together. "I don't know what you mean."   
  
"He doesn't feel happy, or angry, or sad, or *anything*."   
  
He aah'd. "He's... thinking."   
  
"Oh." A pause. "What's he thinking about?"   
  
Brian shrugged. "I'm not sure, sweetie. They try to remain one mind, even though there's three of them. I don't think it's easy." He looked at her calculatingly. "You know that Jamie can make more Jamies?"   
  
Jane nodded.   
  
"Well, there used to be only one Jamie. Now there are three up here, and lots down on Earth. They're trying to be one person again, and to speak to the Jamies on Earth, as well."   
  
Jane oh'd again. "Don't they like being three people?"   
  
Brian shook his head. "I don't think so, not really. Because, you see, they're not really three people. And he's not really one person. He doesn't like that."   
  
"Can I fix him?" Jane asked, starting to get up and head towards the door again.   
  
"No, you can't, sweetie."   
  
They fell into a silence that remained for a few seconds, before being interrupted by a quiet gasp from one of the Jamies. Both Brian and Jane swivelled their heads to look up and into the room, but as none of the trio had moved, they couldn't tell which one had made the noise.   
  
One of them, the one nearest the window, was flickering like bad reception. He continued to do that for about ten seconds. Then, gradually, it died and he faded away.   
  
Jane looked concerned, and gazed up at Brian as she pushed enquiringly against his arm, trying to get out of his gentle grip and towards the door. He felt safe, but the urge to go help Jamie was so *strong*... People weren't meant to just vanish like that, were they?  
  
Brian just smiled gently, tightened his hold a little, and shook his head. Jane sagged, not understanding, but still immature enough to take his word for gospel.  
  
He stood up, lifting her effortlessly onto one shoulder. "Where do you want to go?"   
  
Jane shrugged by way of reply.   
  
"Why don't you go to your room?" he suggested.  
  
Another shrug.   
  
He started towards her room, sliding her forward to let her sit on his forearm.   
  
"Is Jamie his own brother?" she asked suddenly.   
  
Brian raised an eyebrow. "No. He's just himself."   
  
She knitted her brows. "But which one is Jamie?"   
  
"All of them are."   
  
"Which one was the first one?"   
  
"All of them."   
  
Jane's forehead furrowed. "That doesn't make sense, Brian," she said reproachfully.   
  
Brian let a half-smile worm out on to his face. He was not about explain Jamie's mutation to her. He wasn't even sure of the specifics himself. "No, it doesn't," he agreed. "But it's still true."   
  
"So... Jamie doesn't have any brothers?"   
  
"I don't know. He hasn't mentioned any."   
  
"Do you?"   
  
A pang in his chest. Brian winced, remembering something distant and past. "It's rude to ask someone that, Jane," he chided gently, and then set her down. "Run along, now."   
  
"But what about your brother?"   
  
Brian smiled a tight, insincere smile. "I have a sister and a brother."   
  
"Where are they?"   
  
"My brother died because of the virus. My sister is in stasis here."   
  
"Oh. Is she broken?"   
  
"Yes. All the people in stasis here are 'broken'. They all have the virus."   
  
"Why doesn't Erik let me fix them?"   
  
"You'd catch the virus from them before you were able to cure it. Then we'd have no way of curing you, and all of us would probably catch it from you." _Or at least, that's what Erik says,_ he added to himself.   
  
"That's bad?"   
  
"Very."   
  
Jane paused. "Doesn't anyone else here have brothers and sisters?"   
  
Brian scratched his head. "I can't quite remember. I think two of them in stasis are brother and sister, and I think Wolfsbane has a brother in there by some unnecessarily convoluted family tree." He grimaced and shook his head. "Scots..."   
  
Jane shivered. "I don't like Wolfsbane. She's nasty."   
  
Brian nodded despite himself. He, like many of the males aboard Asteroid M, had run into the female mutant's 'advances'. She could be quite forceful when she wanted, and had a habit of leering whenever they went past. Since Spider-Man woke up, though, she'd been trailing him like a puppy after a meaty bone, and had left the rest of them be. Small graces to be grateful for, even if she was still savage as a rabid dog.  
  
"Yes, she is. Just you keep out of her way, yes?"   
  
"Okay." Jane hugged his leg briefly, then ran the rest of the way back to her room.   
  
Brian rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a minute. Then he made a snap decision to visit the vaulted chamber where the stasis tubes resided, and turned his feet in that direction. Jane's talk had made him suddenly wistful, and he had the urge to go talk over his new life here with Betsy[1].   
  
*******************  
  
"They're coming."   
  
Grasshopper nearly jumped clean out of his shell. "Shit! Don't do that, Scry!"   
  
The humanoid mutant didn't look at him. He'd sat straight up in bed, and the single dirty sheet was pooled about his waist. This was the first he'd woken since his faint of earlier, and Grasshopper hadn't left his oldest friend's side since.   
  
Now the Mutie Town leader's insectoid brow furrowed. "Who?"   
  
"Them. They've started off again, but... but she's already there. Waiting for them." Scry bit his lip, and turned troubled eyes around the room. His expression was glazed, and it was clear he was in the throes of another Vision, so Grasshopper crouched twitchily at the foot of the bed and waited for it to finish.   
  
Scry was impossible to talk to when he got like this. They'd been friends for years, even before the start of Mutie Town, so he knew that much.   
  
"He's... frightened. So small... young. She won't hurt him... useful, but... plans. Big plans. Mustn't get in her way, or... hurt. So much hurt. Inside... outside.... all around. Awash with it." Scry blinked, gaze refocusing.   
  
Grasshopper clicked his wings beneath their casings and straightened up. "What did you see?" he asked simply.   
  
Scry looked up at him, and said, unflinching, "Death."   
  
"Whose?"   
  
"Many."   
  
"Any of our people's?"   
  
The visionary pressed a hand to his forehead. "I... cannot tell. Clouded. Maybe?"   
  
Grasshopper snorted. "Maybe don't cut it. Who. Is. Coming. Scry?"   
  
"The saviours," his friend replied soberly. "They mean us no harm, but we must be ready for them. They bring both sick and injured, and will have more before a score of hours have passed."   
  
"Mutants?" An eye-ridge rose, hopeful.   
  
"Yes. And one man, but he's of the Goddess' order."   
  
"Bunch of ponces." Grasshopper rearranged his shell irritably and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as he was wont to do when in thought. "What saviours?"   
  
"That's all the Vision said. Saviours. We must help them."   
  
"Maybe."   
  
"Maybe?"   
  
Grasshopper sighed and gestured out of the window to where a young mutant was scolding a small child and dragging him indoors. There was a little gathering outside the Temple, waiting for them so they could begin the makeshift funeral for their priestess.   
  
"That's all I can give you now, Scry. That's all I can give you."  
  
*******************  
  
A car is a naturally fast appliance, as designed by its original creators to be faster than walking. Or a clapped out old double-decker bus.   
  
And a car powered by hex bolts is much faster than most.   
  
Wanda giggled in delight, the wind caressing her face and her stomach churning with excitement.   
  
Ariel, by comparison, felt scared and sick. Especially since she kept breaking off her inner reverie to lean across and stroke his face, murmuring sentiments such as 'pretty', and 'gorgeous'. He'd considered trying to make a break for it, but in the end his nerve had failed him. For all his skills as a servant and good trade, Ariel was still a child.   
  
Besides, she'd only catch him anyway.   
  
She sometimes fired tiny bursts of power at random objects as they passed. Tin cans, cardboard boxes, barrels.   
  
People.   
  
Ariel just kept his foot down and tried not to look - tried not to listen as she laughed when she 'scored a hit'.   
  
He didn't really know where they were going. He just followed directions as he was given them. The land all around was barren and bleak; with little sign of something to put this much effort towards reaching.  
  
Somehow she did, though. She knew exactly where to go, and directed him with unerring confidence.   
  
They found it just after daybreak, when the sun had risen in the sky. She called out for him to stop, and he landed hard on the brakes, skidding the car around at the apex of a small, rubble-strewn hill she'd blasted a path through. Peering through the shattered windscreen, he saw what she'd spotted.   
  
The Mississippi River.   
  
He could feel the water even from this distance, pulsing and churning into slight eddies on the surface. His gut wrenched, and his skin ached like a parched man's throat in the desert. It was almost too much to bear, being so close, and yet so far. Only his fear kept him rooted behind the wheel, making sure the engine stayed purring.   
  
The bridge over the river was, miraculously, still intact; all struts still strong and nothing sullied except for a little rust here and there. There were no other motorists about, but that was to be expected. They hadn't seen any since they left Reno and travelled up here. None that were working, anyway. The only people they'd seen had been on foot, or cowering away from them as they passed.  
  
The madwoman liked to shoot at them best.  
  
Wanda craned out of her windowless door and smirked. It was a cruel expression, and she took little pleasure in making it, since her thoughts were engaged elsewhere. "Onward, driver," she said in an affected British accent, "onto the bridge."   
  
Ariel did as he was told, shoving the car into gear and driving past the shattered barrier. There was a scrap of clothing inside the booth by the side of the road, and a skeletal foot protruded from the doorway, shoe long gone. Taken by scavengers, most likely.   
  
They trundled along at a more sedate pace than Wanda had previously insisted upon to career here. The tattered girl said she wanted to 'enjoy the view', and kept peering at the horizon with a strangely hungry look on her face.   
  
They stopped at the far end of the bridge, where Wanda, perhaps in some misguided sense of road manners, commanded they park to the side so as to let others pass. Ariel cut the engine, which made curious clicking noises as the last remnants of hex bolts escaped into the air and fizzled away to nothingness.   
  
Wanda hauled herself out and surveyed around them. "This'll do," she said after a moment, ostensibly pleased. "This'll do very nicely. You," she pointed to Ariel, "out. Now."   
  
Ariel did as he was bid, sparing a longing look towards the swirling water so far below. He couldn't have any, though. He couldn't bring it up here because she wouldn't allow it, and a jump from this height would surely kill even him. Though he loved the water dearly, Ariel couldn't become one with it. He could still die by its hand.   
  
"Now, little Water Baby," Wanda cooed, taking his hand like a mother and child out for a simple walk. She crouched by his side and gestured over the edge of the bridge to the rushing torrent below. "You see that river down there?"   
  
Ariel swallowed. His throat was so *dry*. "Yes."   
  
"I want you to take some of that water, and push it all the way up here. I want you," she smiled, somewhat seductively, and ran a finger under his chin, "to make a wall. Make it as wide as possible - wider than you or me. And make it thick. Thick like a brick! I want you to make it block the bridge."   
  
Ariel gasped and stared at her, wide-eyed. "B-b-but... I can't," he stuttered. "It's too much. I'll - "   
  
"Oh, come on now." Wanda clasped his throat in her hand, yet smiled beatifically. "I'm sure you can if you *really* try."   
  
Ariel whimpered, and her grip tightened in response. "I've never tried to move that much water," he choked out.   
  
Wanda's face contorted around the eyes, tightening, though her grin remained fixed in place. "Shhh, silly little water lily," she said soothingly. "You can do it. I know you can. And perhaps you do, too? And do you know how I know?" She twisted her arm, making it appear that he shook his head. "Well, because if you don't, then I'll kill you. Now, would you rather try and make a water wall, or die?"   
  
In a swift movement she released his neck, stood up, and took a step backwards.   
  
"Choose quickly. I'm not renowned for my patience."   
  
Terrified, legs weak and veins throbbing with adrenaline and lack of oxygen, Ariel centred himself. He stood with his feet apart so that the mental pressure wouldn't topple him over. With a last glance at his merry captor, he squeezed his eyes shut, and concentrated. Hard.   
  
A few moments passed. His head hurt. He felt sick. But he tried, reaching out with his power until he sensed the nearness of the water, felt it pushing and shoving against itself when it knew he was near. It knew him, just like all water did, and greeting him silently. He reached out with his mind to touch it, but felt as if he were too far away. He stretched, and then suddenly it was there, helping him along, reaching back towards him.   
  
He grabbed at it, ignoring its cries at such rough treatment, and dragged it back up with him. The waves protested, but he held them fast. He had no time for the formalities of an element today. He felt the power surging upwards, guided by his touch until it foamed and frothed and pounded against the insides of his skull. He sculpted it, as he had done countless times - except that on this occasion he made it tall and strong, instead of small and beautiful. It was there, inside him, part of him, rushing through his body. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears, and willed everything he had into pushing just a little more...  
  
"Well *done* Water Baby!"   
  
Wanda's warbling voice skimmed his mind, yanking him back to consciousness with a jolt. Ariel dared to open his eyes and saw, to his amazement, a wall of solid water in front of him. It pounded like an inverted waterfall, spewing upwards and then falling down again, to come back up moments later, endlessly repeating the cycle he'd set it to. It was tall - taller than most buildings, and more than ten metres thick at the very least.   
  
But, most importantly, it was blocking the bridge.   
  
"Now, little one," Wanda went on in a singsong voice, "I want you to keep that there, and not let it go. Some people will turn up soon. I felt them coming. Stop them and keep the wall there. There's one person I want to speak to. I'll take care of him; you just make sure the others stay away, okay? Do it, and I *probably* won't kill you."   
  
Ariel nodded feverishly, not daring to talk - partly because he was worried about angering the volatile woman, and partly because he dared not break his concentration. His arms were outstretched, and he could feel the water crying to him, begging to be let free. It hated being confined to one unnatural form like this. With his prior creations he had let them pick what shape they could take, but this... this was wrong. So wrong. It hurt, and the water mourned for his pain as well as its own.   
  
Wanda stepped close. He saw he in his peripheral vision. "Do we understand each other?"   
  
And all he could do was nod.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Yup, that's Psylocke. 


	24. Found

A/N ~ Thank you to everyone who wrote in reviews. I've bottled the snuggly feelings they elicited and am using them as a hot water bottle now that the frost has arrived. Oh, and just as a rather bizarre observation, they've started showing Christmas ads on TV already! Gah!  
  
Hootild; Yup, Wanda is a bona fide nutter. Appealing, ne?  
  
The Phantom; *Hands over elbow grease to get footprints off the walls* Glad you like Ariel. He got a bit of bad press to begin with, but he's really coming into his own, now. Thank you ^_^  
  
Remedy=Chill; Forget Raymond, everybody loves psycho Wanda, it seems. O.o Yay, neglected characters get some luvin'! Scry, Ariel and the Jamies thank you.  
  
Mocla; More Wanda praise! *Swells with pride* Who knew she had so many fans?  
  
UnknownSource; Just out of curiosity, who exactly *did* you think Brian was? And you're right - poor little Ariel. The kid doesn't get cut much slack, does he? Climax on the bridge? *ignores potential double entendre of the question* Hmm, could be. But then again, might not be at all...  
  
Krazy Xanadu; *Gasps!* A real live Brian fan? *Breaks out fanfare* Yay!  
  
Witch-UK; Ahoy, fellow UK-person. Glad you like the fic, and a Happy Belated Birthday for the fifteenth.  
  
*******************  
  
Twenty-fourth Fragment ~ Found  
  
*******************  
  
"What're we s'posed to call you, now?"  
  
Rogue's question startled her mother, and she looked up from where her head had been nodding onto her chest. "Hmm?"  
  
Rogue cocked her head to one side, appraising. "Your name. What're you gonna go by?"  
  
"I've had a variety of epithets so far. But Momma, Mama and Mommy are the ones that've stuck, I'm glad to say."  
  
"I don't mean like that. I mean your *real* name." Rogue gestured at the others on the bus, though they weren't listening to her. "Most folk've given up on codenames, if they went with 'em at all."  
  
"Except you."  
  
She tossed her head. "I like Rogue better 'n Marie. So sue me." Her expression turned vaguely sad, and she transferred her gaze out of the window. "Been a long time since I even *had* a proper name, 'stead of a number. Think I got a right to choose what it is after that. But you - you've had so many names in the past. I was jus' wonderin' how you felt about the one you got now."  
  
"I don't follow you."  
  
"I heard Logan talkin' to you earlier. He called you 'Raven'. Is that your given name?"  
  
"It's the one on my birth certificate, wherever *that* is."  
  
Rogue nodded. "But most folk still call you Mystique - your codename. I was jus' wonderin' why he was so different, is all. Thought maybe you'd told him somthin' you never told the rest of us."  
  
She shook her head. "No, I never said anything. Truth be told, I don't know why he calls me that at all. I certainly never asked him to, and nobody else does."  
  
"Well, maybe it's time they did."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Not to sound like a broken record, but the war's over. So's the life that went before it - the life that meant we *hadda* have codenames. Now we get to pick whether we want 'em or not. You talked about makin' a new start, right? Well, why keep somethin' that keeps people off who you really are?"  
  
Todd was at her shoulder, and to her surprise, he was agreeing with his old teammate. "Rogue's right, yo. Why bother wit' a name 'at *means* deception?"  
  
_But that's what you always called me. It's the name everyone called me when I looked like this._  
  
"'Cause I was tole' to, Boss Lady. 'Cause they were tole' to, an' all." He leaned in closer, face clean and whole, for once. "Prolly no-one'll ask ya this question again, so ya'd best make th' most of it while it's up for grabbin'."  
  
_You think I should change my name?_  
  
"I think y'should do what yo' think y'should do."  
  
"Momma?" Rogue's brow puckered, and she waved a hand in front of her mother's face.  
  
"Raven," she said suddenly. "I'd like it if people called me Raven from now on. New beginnings and all that jazz, right?" She smiled, and for some inexplicable reason it felt like am ancient weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  
  
"Raven," repeated Alvin from his seat, and nodded. He extracted a book and pencil, and wrote it down beside her prophecy. "Raven, the Lady Mobius."   
  
Raven turned to better face him. "Could you... tell me my prophecy again?"  
  
He bobbed his head, and said aloud, "Lady Mobius calls the triangle, seeks point in new dimension."  
  
"Calls the triangle?" Rogue repeated, brows pulling together.  
  
"You and Kurt," Raven informed her firmly. "You, he and I were family long before this trip, even though we were separated. When Logan first made me change from cat to myself, before Daisy and Robyn asked me to be their mother too, the wheels had already been set in motion for the three of us to be reunited."  
  
"And the new dimension?"  
  
"I think you know the answer to that one as well as me."  
  
Rogue blinked for a second, and then nodded. "Guess so."  
  
"Know the answer to what?" Kurt appeared on the stairs, cradling Robyn close. He nodded at the incessant whining from Clive as an explanation for his appearance, and took a seat not that far back from his sister and mother.   
  
In Raven's arms, Daisy snuffled, and the shapeshifter held her close. Pietro, erstwhile alone on the second level, was not long in following Kurt down, and chucked the lizardine child under her chin as he passed. He slid into a window seat before the elf sat next to him.  
  
"Answer to what?" Kurt pressed, rearranging himself so his healing injuries wouldn't be jolted too much.   
  
Raven opened her mouth to answer, but shut it again quickly as she grabbed to keep her seat.  
  
The bus had crested a blind hummock and squealed to a halt with such force that several of its passengers were thrown forwards, and a few unprotected chests banged against the seats in front of them. Alvin grabbed for his precious plants as they started to topple from his cart, and all those holding children tightened their arms around swaddled bundles lest they be injured by the sudden arrest.   
  
Raven, still holding securely onto Daisy, braced her feet on the floor. "What's going on?" she demanded, face creasing into a frown.   
  
From the driver's seat came the sound of a curse. "Oh shee-it!"   
  
"What? What is it?" Lance stumbled to his feet and went to Logan's side; jaw dropping open as he caught sight of what had made the older mutant halt so abruptly. "Jesus H. Christ!" he murmured, tone edged with a hint of awe around his anger. "It's like... like... I don't know *what* it's like."   
  
Kurt leaned into the aisle. "Was ist los? Lance, what's going on?"   
  
No answer.   
  
"Lance," Kitty chimed, adding her verbal two-penny's worth. Hope had woken, and was starting to grizzle at being jostled about so roughly. Had the elder children not been so exhausted, it was possible they would've been doing the same.   
  
Lance snapped from his open-mouthed reverie and shook himself. "Wha - oh, yeah. It's... it's unbelievable. If I described it to you, you'd never believe me. Not in a million years."   
  
"Excuse me?" Pietro piped up waspishly. "You're talking to people who can phase through solid objects, change their physical form and teleport, amongst other things. I think suspension of disbelief pretty much comes as standard on this trip. Now spill. Why've we stopped?"   
  
Lance glanced back, chewing the inside of his cheek. They gazed at him expectantly, wondering what the two men could see out of the windshield that nobody else could from further back.   
  
Kitty shifted her weight, feeling the tension descending upon them more than most and getting fidgety at the sudden sense that something was very, very wrong.   
  
"We're almost at the Mississippi River." It was Logan who answered, and his gruff voice betrayed almost nothing.   
  
"Already?" Raven blinked. "I didn't know we'd come so far. Not many road signs around these days."   
  
"But surely that's a good thing?" Kitty pointed out. "It means we're getting closer to that Mutie Town place, doesn't it? I mean, weren't we gonna, like, go restock and recuperate there or something?" Though she couldn't see it, Jamie nodded.  
  
"Kinda." Lance looked back at the road ahead.   
  
"Kinda? What sort of answer is 'kinda'?" Pietro challenged irritably. "Speak English or clam up."   
  
"There's a bridge across the river," said Logan, moving the unlit match in his mouth from one side of his lips to the other in a vaguely agitated movement. "From what I can see, it's pretty much intact, and looks sturdy enough to take the weight of a bus without collapsin'."   
  
"Sounds good. So what's the hold-up?"   
  
"There's a wall of water blockin' the bridge."   
  
The statement was so bizarre that it took a few seconds of slotting jaws back into place and rearranging eyeballs into sockets before anybody answered.   
  
Naturally it was Pietro who spoke first. "Whaddya mean, 'a wall of water'?"   
  
"Exactly what I said, bub," Logan growled, and nodded out of the window. "It's a wall. Spans the whole frikkin' road from one side to the other. And it's made of water."   
  
Pietro, sceptical as ever, despite his loose tongue, decided that this was something to be seen for himself if it was to be believed. However, Kurt was on the aisle seat, effectively blocking his exit.   
  
Taking care not to jostle either Kurt or his charge, Pietro scrambled into a crouching position on his seat and vaulted over the row in front. No sooner had his feet touched down on the floor then he was at the front of the bus, standing next to Lance and gawking like he'd just seen a miracle come to pass. Which, in a manner of speaking, he had.   
  
"They're right," he breathed. "It *is* a wall of water. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. Gotta be a hundred feet high, and covers all lanes. Pretty spectacular roadblock, if you ask me."   
  
"Where on earth did it come from?" Raven asked sensibly. "What's it doing here?"   
  
"Guess we'll find that out when we get there," said Logan, and thrust the bus into gear.   
  
"Hold on a minute," said Lance, showing a moment of forethought and planning. "D'ya think that's a good idea? I mean, what if whoever caused that thing is still there? What if they ain't friendly?"   
  
"You think it was a person caused this?" Pietro fixed him with a curious stare.   
  
"You don't?" Lance shot back. "Who else but a mutant could do that without a lot of complex machinery? Lookit, it's standing up completely on its own. You can't tell me that's natural."   
  
"I suppose..." Pietro looked at Logan. "He has a point."   
  
In reply, Logan patted the back of his hand. "So do I. Several." He revved the engine a little, sending plumes of black out of the exhaust to billow over the trailing jeep. "Look, there ain't no other way over that there river, and we can't go back the way we came. Searchin' fer another way across that'll take our weight would take up too much time. Time," he gestured over his shoulder at the others, "that we don't have. If this thing's the work of another mutant then fine. P'raps we can recruit 'em or somethin'. If they're hostile, then I'm sure we got enough firepower between us to see ourselves aw'right."   
  
Both Lance and Pietro cast wary glances over their motley group. Raven and Logan would probably be their best line of defence. The others' powers were nifty, and useful in different ways to their journey, but not especially battle-worthy. Those of them healthy enough to fight, that was.   
  
In a pinch, Lance knew that his own abilities might get them out of any jam that presented itself - but he was conscious of how much superfluous damage an earthquake would cause the bridge itself, and had no desire to put everyone's lives in danger through his own actions. The briefest look at Kitty cured any notion of that stone dead.   
  
They had to cross that river, and they had to do it soon. Neither Robyn nor Daisy were looking particularly peachy, and all of them needed a rest from constantly looking over their shoulders, watching out for the next disaster to overtake and try to destroy them. Stress was beginning to tell, as evidenced by gaunt eyes and frayed tempers. Much more time on the road without respite would only result in another outburst amongst themselves, and since the spat between Kurt and Alvin hadn't yet been remedied, another one would likely drive a wedge between the members of their party.   
  
Division of friends was an ugly thing at the best of times, and this was definitely not the best of times.   
  
Lance squared his jaw and adopted a commanding, decisive tone. "Okay, we move on and face whatever comes at us."   
  
Logan nodded, and indicated that they should return to their seats before he started off again. This old crate wasn't the smoothest of starters, and there was no point in creating more injuries than necessary by throwing people down the aisle during take-off.   
  
Pietro, however, wasn't quite so convinced, and twisted his fingers together hesitantly. "You sure this is a good idea?"   
  
"Got any reason not to that outweighs the reasons to head that way?" Logan asked, arching a brow that told them all he knew there were none.   
  
Pietro couldn't answer, and so sighed instead. He went back to the area he'd been sitting before, plopping back into the row preceding Kurt's so that he didn't have to make the elf move for him.   
  
A swift poke to the shoulder instantly caught his attention, and he swivelled around to face a pair of searching golden eyes.   
  
"You okay?" Kurt's voice was level, but his gaze was worried. Having not seen the water-wall for himself, he was relying on the opinion of his 'brother' to ensure their safety.   
  
"Me? Yeah. Just... don't wanna take no risks, is all." Pietro gave a cheery smile and looked forward again. He kept the smirk fixed in place like a mask, refusing to give into the strange, niggly feeling that had started up in the recesses of his chest.   
  
Something was wrong. Very wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on *what*, exactly, and there was no way he could make anyone listen to an odd feeling like that. It wove about his lungs, constricting them with something akin to trepidation, but remained elusive when he probed at it. They'd probably just say it was something he'd eaten if he voiced his sudden worry, so it was better he said nothing.   
  
_After all, they already know I'm crazy. Or as good as,_ he thought wryly. An old phrase Rogue had used to use popped into his head. _What's the use in beating a dead horse?_   
  
Kurt watched the back of Pietro's head as they lurched off and frowned. Whatever he said, the teleporter knew that something was amiss. He'd noticed it the moment Pietro's easy banter evaporated, and the way his movements now were jerky. He looked... worried. Slightly off-key. Like something had spooked him.   
  
Kurt turned and looked out of the grimy window at the austere landscape zipping by. _What are we getting ourselves into now?_  
  
*******************  
  
Ariel twitched only once when Wanda spoke, voice cutting through the silence that had enveloped the bridge like a hot knife through butter. He didn't want to rile her any more than he had to, and so stuck to the barest minimum of movement whenever she deigned to talk, or indicate that she remembered he was there; which wasn't often, he was thankful to note.   
  
Her words were sharp, clipped, and held a note of satisfaction that was chilling to hear. "They're coming," she said simply.   
  
Immediately, Ariel felt her eyes upon him. He could sense her hard gaze, boring into his back. Evidently she expected some kind of answer to this, so he cleared his dry throat and asked, "How can you tell?"   
  
Clearly the response was adequate, for she didn't incinerate him on the spot, which was always a good thing. Instead, she folded her arms agreeably across her chest and nodded at the road beyond the rushing torrent of water they'd erected.   
  
"I can feel him. He's getting closer."   
  
She licked her lips, tasting the salt on her skin with her questing tongue. She was excitable, and found herself hopping from foot to foot in anticipation. She couldn't really see anything except a few blurry images through the liquid wall, but she didn't need sight to tell her that Pietro and his pals were getting nearer. She could sense that strange bond all siblings share. It tightened as the distance between them grew less, like a shining cord gathering and ravelling in her hands. And she pulled at it, champing at the bit and dragging him toward her as hard as she could.   
  
She knew that he must have been feeling some of the same pull, but didn't really consider the implications of it. It was a wonderful feeling; the expectancy of revenge. It bubbled in her gut, and her veins fairly sang with it, pulsed with the sheer joy that vengeance pumped her diseased mind full of.   
  
Ariel cleared his throat again, breaking her reverie. "Who?"   
  
Abruptly, the moment was broken, and she rounded on him, spitting venomously, "Shut up! Just shut up! You don't know when to be quiet, do you, Water Baby? Perhaps I should tear your tongue out to make you silent, eh?"   
  
The scaled mutant shrank back, quailing beneath her savage gaze. Wanda's hair fairly crackled with pent up energy, and stuck out in various peaks and troughs that buzzed and fizzed like severed electricity-pylons caught in the rain. Her hair was unkempt, to say the least, since she hadn't bothered to seek out anything resembling a comb or brush since the lab. It had run wild, and served to accentuate her insane appearance with a halo of black that refused to be tamed, or even coaxed into submission.   
  
She crept forward, and with every step her feet started to lift until she was hovering scant inches above the ground, toes dragging noisily. Ariel kept his gaze fixed on these so as to avoid her face, and fought the urge to cover his head with his hands in fear. She'd stolen a pair of shoes from somewhere, but they were odd and didn't match. On her left foot was a sneaker of gaudy red and white streaks, and on the right, a black boot with a pointed toe that laced up her calf. Had Ariel any memories of high school and the cliques therein; or even if he'd been a more philosophical type, he might've considered the ironic statement of the shoes and what they portrayed. As it was it was all he could do to keep his rebellious stomach under control, and the back of his throat gagged slightly as bile rose up in his seditious and fearful maw.   
  
Then, all at once, Wanda stopped. Her head snapped up like a puppet on a string, and she cocked her ear to one side, like she was listening intently to something that only she could hear. Slowly, a sickening smile wormed its way across her face, and a gleeful giggle emerged yippily from her gullet.   
  
Ariel flinched as she leaned towards him, pressing a finger to her lips and shushing vociferously. Quoting an old movie line, Wanda grinned at him, and then patted him on the head like a good little doggy.   
  
"They're heeeere."  
  
*******************  
  
"Speedy."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I want a closer look at that thing."  
  
"Be my guest. I'm not stopping you from getting out."  
  
Logan growled. "We got any binoculars upstairs?"   
  
"Maybe," Pietro shrugged, then caught Logan's eye in the mirror. "You, uh, want I should go look?"   
  
"Smart kid. You do that."   
  
Pietro slid off the bench again, and climbed the stairs to the upper deck.   
  
{Wuff-wuff!}  
  
  
  
"Quiet, you," he hushed the dog.   
  
Clive eagerly followed the tall human as he pawed through piles of stuff heaped across most of the seats, stretching as far as her makeshift leash would allow. A sad little whine followed when he paid her no heed, and she coked her head woefully to one side in the manner of all baby animals that didn't understand the world around them.  
  
"Binoculars," Pietro said as he came up with an old, battered pair. "Great."   
  
He bounded down the stairs with his prize, thrusting them into Logan's hands as the bus paused once more. Logan snatched them and lifted them to his eyes, staring intently towards the bridge.   
  
"Can't see a thing with all that water," he growled after a moment.   
  
"Hold on."   
  
A rush of air, and Pietro was back from the jeep before anyone could stop him going in the first place.   
  
"Forge's possibly-patented water goggles. Neutralise light distortion to restore normal vision. Says so on the side." He handed them over. "I spotted them while loading the thing up before."   
  
Logan pressed the device to his eyes, holding the binoculars against the other side. He adjusted the focus, looked intently for several moments, and then cursed inventively. "You set this up?"   
  
"What's there?" Raven leaned out of her seat.   
  
Logan shoved the viewing instruments against Pietro's chest. The teenager fumbled with them, glanced nervously towards his former enemy, and then looked through them towards the bridge. His pitch rose a few notches, and they could practically hear the 'thunk' as his jaw hit the floor.  
  
"Wanda?!"   
  
*******************  
  
"Well," breathed Magneto over Hank's shoulder, "How does it work? What do you see?" The whirr of machinery accompanied his words, as did the soft hum that permeated all of Asteroid M's interior.  
  
  
  
Hank smiled. "It's working like a dream," he replied. "Better than expected, in fact. All we need is the genetic code of the target, and we can detect them anywhere on Earth."  
  
  
  
"Excellent," his friend sighed, and helped Hank remove the large and cumbersome Cerebro helmet from around his skull.   
  
It was not, in fact, the same Cerebro Charles Xavier had once used, for that demanded some level of telepathic power. Rather, it was a slightly different version; able to pinpoint a person from their genetic signature, if one knew what it was. Erik had helped Charles design and build the original model, so there had been little problem in the initial stages, since this version simply involved combining it with a few experiments from his old lab in the Bavarian mountains. Though not a part of his mutation, Erik possessed an excellent photographic memory.  
  
The work on Cerebro II had been hastened forward by the recent hitches Jamie had been prone to, regarding his clones down on Earth. Erik was planning to use it to pinpoint and rescue the remaining copies so they could be reabsorbed. He also planned to locate any other mutants whose genetic signatures he knew, to see if they were rescue-able. Or even still alive. Not to mention, it was an excellent way of keeping track of people down there - followers and intimate enemies alike.   
  
It had taken many months of hard work to build, and now Erik stood, holding the bulky helmet in his hands and frowning thoughtfully.   
  
Hank guessed what he was thinking. "Don't Erik," he advised. "It's not worth it."  
  
  
  
"Worth what? What have I got to lose? The insecurity that drags my steps every day?"   
  
"Erik, you know in your heart that they're dead. The probability of survival, given their respective circumstances, points to a negligible chance, no matter what your dreams may tell you. Why weigh yourself down more with the proof?"   
  
Erik sighed, and slowly put the headset down. "Maybe you're right, Hank," he said in a long-suffering voice. "When I sleep, the things I see are so very *lucid*, but maybe - "  
  
{WHEEE-OOOO-WHEEE-OOOO-WEEE}  
  
The klaxon alarm sounded around the station, manmade scream echoing horribly off the steel walls.   
  
With a wide-eyed look that verged on panic, Beast bounded out. The klaxon was only sounded in the direst of emergencies, and had never been used before outside of training sims.   
  
Erik made as if to follow, but after a few steps along the walkway he raised his hands and magnetically sealed shut the doors to the Cerebro Chamber, locking himself in.  
  
And Hank out.   
  
When this was done, he reached back into the folds of his cloak and turned off the alarm-activation device he had hidden in there. It was a tiny thing, latticed with wires and ugly nodes put together in the privacy of his chambers where nobody would know about it.  
  
Soon the scream of the alarm was replaced by the heavy thuds of Hank's fists as, realising both Erik's ploy and his intention, he tried to get back into the Chamber.   
  
Erik ignored him and picked up the helmet, considering for a fraction of a second longer.   
  
He had the genetic codes. He knew them like the back of his own hand. Years ago he'd used them, tweaked them, and studied them. Mutated them.   
  
_You gave them a better chance for survival._  
  
_I took their childhood away for my own ambition._   
  
He would make it up to them, though. Even if they...  
  
No, they were dead. He knew that - had to know that. Knowing that simple fact had kept him sane, as had his acceptance of it before the recurring dream that insisted otherwise. The dream of Charles, and that unending game of chess. He'd pushed it away, rebirthed his Acolytes on this Asteroid to make up for his past failures.  
  
But somewhere, deep inside of his soul, Erik wondered. He wanted to lay his ghosts to rest - all of them. He wanted to know their fate, to finally put it all behind him. He wanted - no, *needed* to crush that debilitating hope.   
  
He held the curved helmet in one hand, staring into the hollow eyepieces. "Alas, poor Yorik. I knew him, Horatio..."   
  
All right, so his Shakespeare wasn't up to Hank's standard. It was amazing he'd remembered that one line, considering how often it had been misquoted.  
  
With his free hand, Erik tapped in the codes he knew so well. With a deep breath, trying to steady himself, he then placed Cerebro II onto his head and prepared to jump into the abyss of despair.   
  
*******************  
  
Hank kicked and pounded at the door, working frantically to made some kind of indentation , if not bash the whole thing in. He was creating such a din it was impossible one of the others would not hear and come to investigate, but he kept it up nonetheless. Even more so when he heard the telltale hum of Cerebro II kicking into gear.   
  
"Oh my stars and garters," he breathed, hitting the iron door harder and harder until, at last, it caved in.   
  
But it was too late. The hum of Cerebro II had already ceased, and Erik sat, slumped in the chair, his head in his hands. Beast could see that his wide, proud shoulders were shaking, inverted and drooping as if in utter defeat.   
  
Fear and dread filled his furry blue heart. He had known this would happen. He'd known that the truth would break Erik, would push him into the realms of despair and insanity. He had known that, from the moment he put that helmet on, all would be lost. The great man would be broken even more than his Acolytes.   
  
Now Hank could only stand there, numb, until finally he crept slowly forward to put a large hand on Erik's shaking shoulder. "Erik," he said softly, searching for the words, "I'm... I'm so sorry, I - "  
  
  
  
But before he could continue, Erik turned around.  
  
To his intense surprise, Hank saw that the older man's face was not etched in grief, but split with a smile. A smile as bright and radiant as the sun after darkest night. The tears that fell from his face and the sobs that racked his body were not grief, but joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.   
  
"Hank!" he laughed in a choked voice, "Hank, they're alive! My children are alive!"  
  
*******************   
  
To Be Continued...  
  
******************* 


	25. Tears

A/N ~ Any and all reviews greatly welcomed and appreciated. Feedback especially valued for this chapter. I have my flameproof suit on, so fire away!  
  
The Phantom; Erik's one of those Marmite characters. You either love him or hate him, and fic versions tend to get pigeonholed as a result, with few going into the former category. More's the pity. I have no twin, only two younger siblings of the sister variety, so anything pertaining to 'twinship' that actually turns out to be true herein is pure and total dumb luck.   
  
Amarth Obstreperous; Hee hee, I spelled it right on the first attempt! Glad you like the fic, and kudos for reading it all in one sitting. ^_^  
  
ChaosCat; Thanks for all the compliments, especially about Mystique. She and Logan do indeed make an interesting pair, don't they? As for more Evo survivors... well, you'll have to wait and see who made it, I'm afraid.   
  
UnknownSource; You noticed the shoes! I was wondering whether that little inclusion just went right over people's heads, and you found a meaning in it I didn't expect, so kudos for that. As for the name mix-up, all I have to say is pish posh. You're still reading and still reviewing, so anything's good with me.   
  
Remedy=Chill; Never disappoints? Well now, that *is* a compliment. I think Erik may be stealing some of psycho Wanda's fans. She's not going to be pleased about that, methinks... :) *Returns salute*  
  
LonleyPoet; Welcome to our little realm of madness. Yes, Todd *did* have survival skills, but, as Pietro said, it was sheer bad luck that he was incapacitated by some bozo with a brick, thereby cutting off a lot of his unique, useful talents from him.   
  
Krazy Xanadu; You review each time, which is more than a lot of people do, so I'm grateful for whatever you choose to write; be it one sentence or an entire essay. Thanks.   
  
Risa; The 'Pietro/Wanda confrontation' as you call it, was hell to write (stupidly, I decided to write the whole bridge scene by myself - painful aching fingers!) and so merited quite a bit of prelude. Hopefully, though, it will have paid off and not disappoint. At least, not overmuch, with any luck. As for Jamie, you have Idsunki, Yma and Yodelbean to thank for his twisty-turny development. Not that I was complaining. All hail the New Mutants!  
  
I'll take your muwahahaha, and raise you a Bwahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhaaaaaaaa!  
  
*******************   
  
Twenty-fifth Fragment ~ Tears  
  
*******************   
  
It was only a few moments later when Magneto stood in the main meeting room of Asteroid M, surrounded by all its waking inhabitants.   
  
He had explained the situation as best he could.   
  
"Therefore," he concluded, "I have a favour to ask of you. Although we had not planned to go back to Earth so soon, I would beg of you to come with me. To... to help recover my children. They are both near the Mississippi Bridge, within - to use one of Wolfsbane's phrases - spitting distance of each other, so the trip should not be so very long. They may be in the company of other mutants, too, whom we may incorporate into our ranks. Having said this, if any of you wish not to go, if any of you want to stay here, then I will understand. I will go down alone if necessary, for I cannot demand you risk your lives for a pair of mutants you've never even met."  
  
There was silence in the large room.   
  
Then one man spoke up.   
  
"Sir," said Brian, accent clipped and betraying his traditional British upbringing, "as mutants, we were often cast out, set apart from other humans. But you took us in; you forged us into what we are now. You risked your life in rescuing us when we might not have even been saveable, and you never knew even one of us before we awoke here on the Asteroid. If that hadn't happened... well, I don't know what I, or any of us, would have done. In return for giving us all a new... family, then I say the least we can do is help you retrieve your own."   
  
There was a murmur of assent that quickly rose to something akin to a cheer. Erik felt a sudden swell of pride and - dare he even think it? - affection for these motley outcasts and survivors of a bygone world.   
  
"Very well," he said, voice once again slightly choked. "I shall select a party of you to come with me, and then we will leave for Earth."   
  
Peter looked around the room. He hadn't realised how many people - no, mutants, Magneto had saved. They all broke into cheers around him, but the sound was muffled due to the sudden closeness of Dazzler.   
  
She looked up at him, her gaze questioning. In turn, he glanced over at Wolfsbane. Unlike the rest of the room, these two looked to *him*, not Magneto for a decision. They trusted him to do them right, their training linking them in idea for a moment. Peter nodded, and the three stepped forward before any of the others could.   
  
"We'll go, Magneto. We're the only ones trained for a mission like this. I only wish the Jamies were healthy enough to make the trip, but we can do this without them." Spider-Man crossed his arms over his chest and looked about the room, challenging the others to contradict him.   
  
None dared.   
  
"Very well," Magneto said again, and there was something to his voice when he laid a hand on Peter's shoulder. Something almost like... approval. "We shall leave as soon as possible. Hank, prepare a transport to Earth for the four of us."   
  
He turned on one heel and strode purposefully out of the hall, the blue furred doctor in tail. Peter favoured his friends with a sad smile before slipping on his mask.   
  
"Come on, we've got work to do."   
  
As the trio followed Magneto and Hank, Wolfsbane grinned, showing off her sharp teeth. "Finally, some action."   
  
Peter didn't notice the hungry look she gave his back, adding a double meaning to her reply.   
  
Peter didn't, but Dazzler did.   
  
*******************  
  
"Wanda?" Kurt appeared at Pietro's side, Robyn having been safely deposited in Rogue's arms. "Who's that?"   
  
Pietro didn't answer at first. He just stood there, gulping and staring, fingers trembling as they clutched at the sight-enhancers like a lifeline. He seemed as if in a trance, and started violently when Kurt laid a soothing hand on his shoulder.   
  
"Pietro? Was ist los, Bruder?" Kurt's eyes were soft, but held a hint of concern at the abrupt change in the albino's behaviour.   
  
It was as if what little pallid colour Pietro possessed had drained from his face. His skin was ashen, and beads of sweat had begun to form on his brow in a manner akin to fever. His gaze was unfocused, staring, and more than a little disconcerting to those it alighted on without seeing. When he blinked, which wasn't often, it was a slow, sweeping swish of his eyelids that seemed to require a lot of effort on his part. Kurt was reminded of the original state in which he'd found Pietro, back in Bayville; insanity setting in and almost half-dead for want of living companions and quiet dreams.   
  
The elf took a step forward, hesitantly. He was dimly aware of the silence that had settled upon Raven and Logan behind him, but was at present more concerned for his adopted-sibling's welfare. "Pietro, what is it? Is there someone on the other side of the water that you know?"   
  
"I thought she was dead." Pietro's voice was barely above a whisper, and when he looked at Kurt it was as if he was peering straight through him. "All those years ago... I thought... I thought we'd killed her. But she's alive." His lips twitched, like they wanted to tug into a smile, but couldn't quite make it that far. "Alive," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "No thanks to me. Or him, for that matter. I let him put her away; let him... Alive." He repeated the refrain, rolling it around in his mouth and testing it on his tongue. "Alive."   
  
Kurt exchanged a brief glance with Logan, whose mouth had set into a hard line and whose eyes were flinty. "Mein Herr, do you know who he's talking about? Who's out there on that bridge that could have such an effect - "   
  
"The bridge!" Pietro suddenly cried. "Of course!" He thrust Forge's invention into Raven's hands and whipped around, clawing at the doors of the bus. In seconds he had them open and was dashing across the tarmac as only he could: in a blur of speed.   
  
"Pietro! Wait!" Kurt didn't pause to think of the consequences, and promptly vanished in a puff of lilac smoke and sulphurous smell.   
  
{BAMF!}   
  
Pietro ground to a halt as Kurt reappeared directly in front of him, skidding sideways and just avoiding smashing right into the panting elf.   
  
Kurt heaved air into his lungs; already tired from the strain of teleporting on the meagre supplies their provisions had granted him. His thin chest bounced back and forth against his spine, but he managed to gasp out, "What are you *doing*? You don't know if whoever created this thing is friendly!" He gestured up at the inverted waterfall.   
  
Pietro gyrated from foot to foot so fast his shoes were little more than a smear of white to the naked eye. "Gotta get to her," he babbled, looking past Kurt intently. "Gotta see her. Gotta - "   
  
"See who?"   
  
"Wanda."   
  
"Who's Wanda?"   
  
"My sister."   
  
The simple statement hit Kurt with all the impact of a freight train, and he found himself gaping openly. "Your *sister*? Since when did you have a sibling?"   
  
"Since forever. She's my twin. Wanda Maximoff. Thought she was still locked up - dead, even. But I was wrong. Thank God. I have to see her, talk with her. I gotta - "   
  
"Pietro, hang on a second," said Kurt holding out his hands and placing them on Pietro's narrow shoulders. "Listen, Pietro, even if that *is* your sister - and I'm not saying it is; Forge's inventions didn't always work perfectly, remember - even if it *is* her, it's been four years since - "   
  
"Actually, I think you'll find it's been a lot, lot longer," a strange, lilting voice intoned from somewhere above their heads.   
  
Both Kurt and Pietro looked up, straight into the dark eyes of a teenage girl of about their age. Her hair was a snarled mess, and she wore the tattered, barely-decent remains of hospital garb and other mismatching clothes draped about her emaciated person like a shroud. He skin was pale, her cheeks sunken, and there was a curious glint in her eyes that glittered without the need for outside light.   
  
However, curious as this ensemble was, it wasn't what immediately caught their attentions. That particular award went to the fact that she was floating effortlessly in empty air, with almost sixty feet of nothingness between her and the ground.   
  
Kurt's jaw dropped open, and Pietro breathed reverently as she levitated down towards them with a regal air.   
  
"Hello, Pietro," she said evenly, exclusive of emotion.   
  
"Wanda?"   
  
"You were expecting maybe Prince Charming?" Her mouth didn't budge, and there was no smile that accompanied the bland attempt at humour. "They said I'd see you soon. I've been making plans."   
  
"You mean, *you* did this?" Pietro was nothing short of stunned, and neglected to ask who 'they' were. He probably had good reason to, in a way, since the primary reason Wanda had been placed in the mental institution all those years ago had been because of her lack of control, and subsequent emotional problems. A display of power like this required a hell of a lot of discipline. Perhaps... just perhaps...   
  
Wanda smirked. It wasn't a nice expression. "Oh no, no, no. This pretty thing here is the work of my little Water Baby. I didn't want to expend any energy myself, because I was waiting for you."   
  
The hairs along Kurt's spine started to bristle involuntarily. Sister or no sister, there was something screwy about this girl. He didn't like the hungry way her gaze rested on Pietro, or the way she talked to him, as if Kurt wasn't even there. And the way she talked about her little 'Water Baby' put him in mind of a slaver talk about their goods. The fact that she'd left untended the matter of who 'they' were only served to heighten his sudden surge of mistrust, and he regarded her through narrowed eyes.   
  
"Um, excuse me," the elf broke in abruptly. "Are you really Pietro's sister?"   
  
Wanda turned her neck, but nothing else. The look she gave him was appraising, and did nothing to bolster his confidence in her.   
  
"Been making friends, eh Pietro? There weren't any friends where I was, but I have to say, I approve of your taste in boyfriends. Once you're done with more basic appetites, you can skin him and use his pelt to keep warm. Very nice."   
  
The hairs stuck straight up, and Kurt felt his digigrade legs sink back into a defensive crouch. Even Pietro blanched a little at this, and frowned up at his long-lost sibling with the merest hint of misgiving.   
  
"Wanda," he began, a thousand words struggling for supremacy inside his head, but less than ten finding their way to his tongue. "I.... it's been so long. I thought I'd never see you again - "   
  
"Yes, well, you very nearly didn't." Wanda's head snapped back around to him, and her features moved momentarily into a glower. However, this evaporated in moments, and she floated lower; low enough to pat her brother on the top of his head, and then wipe her palm on her skimpy clothing afterwards. Her tone was flippant, but somehow barbed. "Still, I'm back now, and we have things to talk about. Lots of things. You and I."   
  
Pietro's eyes shone, and Kurt watched with alarm as he nodded without ostensibly having noticed the oddness of his sister's conduct. True, Kurt didn't know all of what had gone on between these two to separate them for so long and cause Pietro never to have mentioned his twin, but his gut told him that there was something off about the situation. And Kurt's gut was rarely ever wrong.   
  
"It'd probably be better of we held all discussions inside the bus," he said, nodding back toward the vehicle, where most of the rest of their party were now emerging and pattering over. "It's safer inside; and you can introduce yourself properly that way, er, Wanda, was it?"   
  
"Yes. Wanda Petra Maximoff. Huh, it's been a long time since I've had to use my full name. Too long really. I like my name. Trips off the tongue like a babbling brook over stones, don't you think?"   
  
"Uh, yeah. Very poetic, I'm sure. I'm Kurt Wag - " He didn't get to say any more, however, as he was abruptly caught in the gut by a glowing ball of green and hurtled through the air to land in an ungainly heap several feet away.   
  
Wanda's hand sparkled with the last traces of a hex bolt, and she spat after him, "What do you know? Idiot. I only want to talk to my brother. The rest of you are expendable, so keep away."   
  
Pietro gawked in a mixture of surprise and horror, and at the bus the figures that could only have been Logan and Raven started to run. "Wanda?" he said, and reeled back as she turned eyes filled with unmistakable hatred on him.   
  
"Pietro," she returned, smiling. "Like I said; you and I have to have a few words. In private. Come along, now, little bro." She extended and arm, and the centre of her palm shimmered with the same energy she'd turned upon Kurt.   
  
Pietro stared blankly at it, then at her face. "Wanda, what's gotten into you? I thought you were happy to see me. Aren't you glad I'm alive? I - "   
  
"Shut up!" she cried, and a thin stream of her power lanced out like a lasso and looped his waist, pinning his arms against his sides. She gave a single hard tug, and he stumbled forwards, seemingly too astonished and shocked for his wits and speed to come into effect. Another tug brought him to his knees, and he watched as his sister rose into the air with a grace and control he'd used to wish she had, trailing the bond - and himself - behind her.   
  
Kurt crawled to his feet. His stomach churned with the inherent nausea a blow to the gut usually brings with it, but otherwise he was miraculously unhurt. He sensed the pounding of feet as the others drew nearer, but was preoccupied by the sight of Pietro being hauled limply into the air. He and Wanda flew straight up, parallel to the water-wall, and then skimmed over the apex to disappear behind it.   
  
"Pi....Pie...." he wheezed, and struggled forward as fast as he could.   
  
He didn't know what exactly he intended to do, since the surging mountain of water spanned the breadth of the bridge, and there was no way he could scale it. Perhaps he intended to try walking through it - after all, it *was* only water. Or maybe he had another plan entirely. Or none at all.   
  
However, he never got the chance to explore solutions to that problem, for as soon as he got within ten feet, something akin to a whip shot from the wall and knocked him backwards again. Kurt rolled head over heels, acrobatic training allowing him to land on his feet and try again, with much the same result.   
  
Logan arrived a few seconds later, with Raven a footstep behind him and everybody else behind them - including the girls in Rogue and Lance's arms, respectively.  
  
Kurt felt his mother's gentle hands hook under his armpits as he was roughly flung backwards again, but shrugged her off in an effort to try the wall once more.   
  
Logan grabbed his wrist. "Don't be stupid, Elf," he growled. "I think that route's been proven a dead end."   
  
"But... Pietro," said Kurt with difficulty. His lungs hurt unbearably, and he had the niggling misgiving that the burning pain in his chest was a cracked rib. "She... she took him... away... Not... sane... Saw it in her... her eyes..."   
  
"Who *was* that?" Rogue demanded hotly. In her arms, Robyn lay limp, breathing erratic and eyes jerking beneath her lids.   
  
"... Sister..."   
  
Rogue snorted. "Pietro don't got no sister. He was an orphan, and an only child. He told me so himself, lotsa times."   
  
Raven bit her lip. "Well, that's not... entirely true."   
  
Rogue shot her mother a penetrating look. "Did he tell you something he didn't tell the rest of us?"   
  
"Not exactly. My source was different, but I know my facts to be true. Pietro *did* have a sister. A long time ago. A twin, by the name of - "   
  
"Wanda Maximoff."   
  
Everybody simultaneously swivelled to look at Logan, whose jaw tightened under their scrutiny.   
  
"Chuck told me about her once, when the little speed demon first showed up in Bayville. Apparently, he used to know their Pa, and said the bastard stuck Wanda in a mental institution when she was just a little kid because her abilities were too powerful and made her violent. Same time he dumped Speedy in an orphanage and never went back for him."   
  
"Violent?" Rogue reiterated, aghast. "And she just took off with Pietro? Who knows what kinda mental state she's in *now* to do something like that?" Had her hands been free, she would've spread them wide with agitation. "Something tells me she didn't go to all this trouble to kidnap him, just so's she could reminisce about old times."   
  
"It's possible she bears a great deal of resentment against Pietro for allowing their father to lock her away," Raven mused disconsolately. "Wanda was never entirely... how should I put it? Stable?"   
  
"You sayin' she's a fruitcake?" demanded Lance.   
  
"Well, if ten years in a nuthouse didn't do it, then several years in this wasteland probably woulda done the trick and sent her 'round the twist," Logan replied brusquely.   
  
Rogue pursed her lips, her distress as obvious as her anger. "Gee, y'think?"   
  
Kurt stretched out a hand towards the wall of water and coughed. Raven caught him as he fell to his knees, panting. "Pie... tro... Got to... get him... back."   
  
"We will, Kurti," said Raven, nuzzling her face into his hair and shushing him soothingly, as she'd been wont to do when he was still a grizzling baby in her arms. "We will." _I made a promise to keep you kids safe, and I'm not going to break it. Not this time around._   
  
"But how?" asked Jamie, reminding them that he was still there. The scout indicated to the wall with a bob of his head and tapped his foot in obvious anxiety at losing his 'saviour' less than a handful of hours after finding him. "That thing's massive, and from what you lot told me about your powers, I don't think any of you are equipped to *fly* over."   
  
Raven looked at him, and it was as if a lightbulb went 'click' behind her eyes. Her face hardened, and she scrabbled to her feet. "I am."   
  
Gathering up the still-wheezing Kurt, she deposited him in Logan's surprised arms and said simply, "Keep him safe. I know I can trust you with my son. You," she then pointed, a little of her old role as commander and principal coming to the fore.   
  
"Me?" Lance looked around him bemusedly at the finger quivering in his face, less than an inch from his nose.   
  
"Yes. I need power that can cover distances quickly, and you have lots of it. More than the rest of us, at any rate. If you can distract Wanda, then I can get Pietro out of there. You understand?" The last question was thrown over her shoulder to Logan, who just shrugged. "Quickly, then. Follow me and do as I say."   
  
Lance blinked. "Uh, okay. I think." Tenderly, the earth-shaker laid Daisy at Logan's feet, accompanied with an apologetic glance. "Sorry, but I - duty calls."   
  
"Kid, just move. Wanda may already have killed Speedy by now with you dithering about," said Logan, ever the gruff pragmatist. He signalled to Jamie, who dutifully clapped his hands and produced a clone that took Daisy back to the relative safety of the bus before evaporating.   
  
"Right."   
  
Lance sprinted over to where Raven was in the process of morphing into the largest, most powerful bird she could think of; which ended up looking like a cross between an eagle, an albatross and Goliath the Giant.   
  
She flapped her huge wings a few times, experimentally swinging them back and forth so that her dusky plumage flashed in the morning sun. For some reason, the feathers were all pitch black. Then, carefully, she grasped Lance's shoulders with her talons, making sure they didn't pierce his thick jacket, and rose up into the air.   
  
Raven had made a promise. And no teenage girl was going to stop her from keeping it.  
  
*******************  
  
Pietro grunted as he was dumped roughly on the ground. The lack of use in his arms made for a sore landing, and his shoulder twisted painfully as he jarred it. A small cry passed his lips, but he stifled it as a long shadow seeped over him, and he looked up into a face he'd longed to see for so long.   
  
Yet it was a changed face from the one he knew. The girl he remembered as Wanda Maximoff was just about visible through the harsh lines and various scars that etched this person's face; but even that was a mere shade of what it should've been. It was, he considered, with a momentary flash of unwelcome philosophy, like someone had taken Wanda's face and used it as a mask. It was her skin, but the eyes belonged to somebody else. Someone worldlier, abrasive, and much, much more savage than the sister he'd known.   
  
"Well, well, well." She tilted her face, looking down her nose at him. "We meet again, little brother. Anything to say for yourself?"   
  
Pietro opened and shut his mouth like a fish, but not a single sound came out. He couldn't seem to make his throat work properly, and all that exited was a strange strangled noise that could've passed for a dying wheeze.   
  
Wanda sniffed, and gave the energy in her hand a swift tug. She still hovered above him by about three feet, so he was sent off balance by the move and fell forwards onto his face.   
  
"Nothing to say for yourself? I'm surprised. You were always so talkative before. Couldn't shut you up, no matter what we tried. And now not a peep? Shame, shame, Pietro. Shame, shame."   
  
Pietro righted himself as best he could, rising to kneel on one knee. "Wanda," he said thickly. "Wanda, what's wrong? What's the matter with you? Why are you doing this? I haven't seen you in... in so long. Aren't you in the least bit happy to see me?"   
  
She pursed her lips in thought, and 'umm'ed and 'aah'ed for a second, before saying, quite firmly, "No."   
  
"But..." Pietro's eyes widened. This wasn't the sister he remembered at all. "I thought you were dead."   
  
"I wished *you* were. I wished you were buried under the ground, all decayed and mouldy, with worms and maggots crawling through your skull," Wanda said morbidly, and loosed a fractured cackle. Her hands twisted, demonstrating how worms and maggots might move, and she waggled her fingers at him with quiet mirth, as if all this was just some big joke. "I wished, and wished, and wished that you'd died. A long, slow death, I wished for you, eked out until you cried like a baby."   
  
"You... you can't mean that," Pietro gasped, horrified at the thought of his own flesh and blood wanting his demise.   
  
"But I do," she replied gravely, levitating herself lower and grinning into his face. "Do, do, do, do, dooooooo. I'm deadly serious, Pietro. Get it? *Dead*ly serious" She laughed, loud and long, throwing back her head and guffawing like a drain.   
  
Then, abruptly, she stopped, and her expression switched back to nothingness again. The change was so abrupt that her features seemed to merge together for a moment, creating a hideous collage of conflicting emotion and cruel words.   
  
It was as if something clicked with Pietro, then. Some intrinsic part of being a twin, of knowing you had another half somewhere; someone who shared your thoughts, your feelings, your very life-force. He looked at her, at the face so altered by time and events, and he knew; he just *knew*, like he did his own state of mind.   
  
_She's mad._   
  
Wanda was insane. Not the quiet, soul-eating insanity that had a tenuous, half-formed hold over his mind, but the violent, pendulous kind that burst forth and let the world know it was there in all its glory, and rebelled at the slightest notion of normalcy.   
  
He cleared his throat, and said slowly, "Wanda, please, listen to me. I know I - we - Father and I, we were wrong to... to do what we did to you. You didn't deserve to be locked away like that. I don't know how much of it you remember, but... but I've spent the rest of my life regretting it. It's just that there was nothing I could do to stop it. Father convinced me that it was for the best, and I went along with what he said. I was a child. I couldn't go against him, even if I - "   
  
"You could've put up a *lot* more resistance than you did, brother dear," Wanda cut in icily. "A *lot* more. But then again, you liked the idea of getting rid of me just as much as he did, in the end."   
  
"I didn't! I - "   
  
"I was *always* getting more attention than you. It annoyed you like hell - I know it did! I saw your face whenever he talked to *me*, whenever he ignored you in favour of *me*. You wanted him to like you best, so you hated it when he didn't, and so hated me. You would've done anything to get rid of me and hog him all for yourself! His little lackey, that's all you ever aspired to be, and I got in the way of that. So, bye-bye Wanda, and hello little lackey Pie-Pie!"   
  
Pietro's mouth hung open. "I never - "   
  
"You did! You did! You did!" Wanda singsonged. "Don't even try to deny it. I know you, Pietro. Even after all these years, I still know you better than anybody else ever could, or ever will. After all, we shared a womb together. You can't get much closer than that, can you? You and me, me and you, altogether we make two! Two, by two, by two, by two, make... one lackey, and Lady Luck. That's my name, now. I don't want the one *he* gave me, and you called me by. I'm the lady of fortune, spinner of dice, queen of the cards!" She giggled, and twirled around in the air like a feather on a breeze.   
  
"Wanda," said Pietro, trying to make her see sense and fast wondering whether it was even possible anymore. Perhaps in another world he would have simply snapped for her to snap out of it, or else run for the hills at breakneck speed.   
  
But time and events had changed him from what he might have been. War and hatred had made him value that which before he would have taken for granted - maybe even resented and feared  
  
"Wanda, please, listen to me - "   
  
"Shut up!" she cried, and yanked the cord.   
  
He braced himself and stayed his place, looking beseechingly up at her. "Wanda, I know we did you wrong, but please listen to me. I... I missed you so much. Every day, it was like a part of me had died. When the plague came, I was sure you were gone for good. I tried to pick up the pieces after Father left, but I thought about you every day. I never, ever forgot you. Ever!"   
  
"The day you left me in that asylum," Wanda said coldly, "a part of you *did* die."   
  
There was the sound of water splashing out of place behind her, and she whipped around to shout at someone stood at the base of the inverted 'fall. "Water Baby, keep it strong! No slipping, y'hear me? You know what'll happen otherwise."   
  
A voice called weakly back to her. "I-I'm trying, but it's... it's hard. One of them keeps trying to get through."   
  
"Well, don't let them. Kill them if you have to, just make sure they stay on that side. I don't want any interference while I speak to my brother! Nothing, do you understand?"   
  
"But... but he keeps coming back. I've hit him so many times, and he keeps getting back up again."   
  
Wanda tutted and peered through the wall, swivelling her head briefly to say, "Looks like your boyfriend's pretty keen to get you back, Pie-Pie."   
  
"Kurt's not my boyfriend," Pietro shot back quickly. "He's my friend. He found and rescued me back in Bay... the place I used to live. He's the reason I'm here today."   
  
"I'll have to thank him later, then, won't I? Before I kill him, that is."   
  
Pietro struggled to his feet, hampered by the bonds still around his arms and midriff. "No, you can't! Any quarrel you have is with me or Father. Leave the others outta this. Wanda, I can understand that you're angry, but - "   
  
"You understand nothing!" she snarled, spinning around and landing a hard slap across his cheek.   
  
Pietro, taken unawares, was laid flat, and stayed prostrate on his back, face burning and red where she'd struck him.   
  
Wanda turned back to where a small figure braced himself against another onslaught from Kurt, and Pietro vaguely heard her threaten him with a dire fate if he didn't do what he was told. The back of the speedster's head hurt where it'd slammed the tarmac, and he made no move to get back up until his vision had stopped swimming.   
  
Thus it was that, when a large, black shape hove into view over the top of the water-wall, he was the first to see it. However, he blinked, not knowing what on earth it could be. Another of Wanda's tricks, perhaps? She'd changed so much; he didn't know what to think anymore.   
  
It was only when he noticed the figure dangling precariously from the underside of the shape that he really started to take notice. Pietro's eyesight wasn't the best in the world, but as he strained he could make out the telltale mop of shaggy brown hair and leather jacket of Lance, as the other boy and what appeared to be a huge bird hovered in the sky.   
  
Mystique, he realised with a jolt. The bird could only be her in a morph.   
  
They'd come to rescue him, and somewhere inside his chest he found himself experiencing the strangest surge of... was that gratefulness? To Mystique?   
  
It was nearly impossible to believe, but it was there nonetheless. Pietro was actually *glad* to see the shapeshifter he'd professed for so long to despise, and his face creased into a smile as the figure of Lance pointed, evidently having spotted him.   
  
"Tch, tch, tch." Suddenly, Wanda materialized in his peripheral vision, shaking her head and tutting. "What're you looking so pleased about?"   
  
"Nothing," he said hastily, averting his eyes and staring at her instead.   
  
Wanda arched an eyebrow. "Oh really?" Suspiciously, she followed the line of sight he'd taken, and grunted in annoyance at the would-be rescue party suspended above the incredible aqueous creation. "Hmmm, they're more resourceful than I gave them credit for," she murmured, a grudging admiration present in her voice. "Seems a shame to get rid of it. Oh well."   
  
Casually, she extended a hand above her hand, palm flat. Pietro watched with undisguised horror as her fingertips glowed green, and sparks of energy sparkled around her as a mass of power gathered in her hand. She smiled down at him, taking obvious pleasure in his dismayed expression, before unleashing the hex bolt and easily shooting the bird and its cargo out of the air.   
  
The winged creature veered left, trying to escape the blast, but it was no use. Wanda's power spread wide, enveloping them both utterly. There was a burst of earth-shattering light and black feathers, and then the two of them plummeted gracelessly to the ground far below.   
  
*******************  
  
"*Mother*!" The cry ripped from Kurt's throat, and he struggled to leap from Logan's arms at the sight of Raven plummeting to earth.   
  
The gruff mutant keep a firm grip of him, however, but Kurt heard him mutter a few choice curses under his breath at the horrific sight.   
  
"Shit!" Rogue cried, aghast. "Holy *shit*! She shot them right out of the air like they were *nuthin'*!"   
  
Kitty jutted out an arm and clutched at the southern girl's shoulder. "What's going on?" she demanded, an edge of fear to her tone. "What happened?"   
  
"The girl - Wanda," said Jamie on her other side. "She's taken out both of our rescuers with a single shot."   
  
The colour instantly drained from Kitty's already wan face, and her grip around Hope tightened. "Oh God, no! Lance!" she whispered, and tugged again at Rogue's sleeve. "Please, tell me, are they all right? Did she hurt them?"   
  
"They're still fallin'," Rogue translated, her own tone strained as she willed her mother's wings to open and bear the two of them to safety. "They... they're comin' down awful fast. I can't see anything - too many feathers, and I - oh shit!"   
  
The expletive spurted from her lips as the giant bird unexpectedly flapped and attempted to right itself in mid-air. However, it was hindered by the fact that its left wing appeared to have been completely severed, and was falling by itself several feet away. Feathers filled the air like a dirty cloud, but all of them saw with perfect, sickening clarity how it thrashed about and beat its remaining wing in a last ditch attempt to rescue both itself and the humanoid figure falling alongside it.   
  
"Come on, Raven," Logan hissed through his teeth. "Come on! Dammit, come *on*!"   
  
As one, the motley group of mutants watched as two of their number made the swift journey to earth. It took only a few seconds between flailing uselessly above the water-wall, and the time when everyone simultaneously knew that the moment of no return had been passed and that they were going to impact. They saw as the bird clawed helplessly at its passenger, slowing his descent a little, but ultimately able to do nothing.   
  
They hit with a sickening crunch, and were lost amidst the swarm of down than followed in their wake.   
  
Kurt let out an anguished, wordless yell, and bolted.   
  
Logan didn't even try to hold onto him this time, since he was rushing across to their fallen companions himself, and reached their sides just in time to see Kurt disappear inside the mass of feathers. The elf reappeared seconds later, coughing and gesturing to the rapidly de-morphing bird beside him.   
  
Logan dropped to Raven's side as patches of blue skin started to show through, and pressed an ear to her face. She was still breathing - thank God - but unconscious, and there was a large gash across her forehead that stretched down the side of her face to her top lip, seeping blood everywhere.   
  
A quick, practised survey born of two hundred years of training revealed that the rest of her body, as far as her skeleton went, at least, was mercifully intact, and he let out a sigh of relief as a weight lifted from his shoulders. Apparently her morph had taken the brunt of the damage, and as her body shifted back to normal it somehow managed to heal most of her own wounds - save for her mangled arm...  
  
"Lance? Lance?" Kitty's voice pattered up behind them, as she did herself. "Lance," she called desperately. "Where are you? Answer me, you big lug."   
  
Logan looked at Kurt. Kurt looked at Logan. Together they look towards the sorry heap of leather and brown hair at Raven's feet. Kurt was already bent over his side, hand outstretched to the other boy's neck. Logan's keen eyesight picked out the tears easily, and he found himself cursing afresh as he moved over to look for himself.   
  
Lance's eyes were open, his neck twisted to one side in such a manner that a human, mutant or not, could never withstand. The bulge of bone protruding from one side verified it, as did the pool of blood slowly gathering under his head and soaking into his hair. One hand was clenched, the other shaped into a claw where he'd panicked and grabbed ineffectually at handfuls of feathers, most of which were now covering him in a blanket of black.   
  
Footsteps, and the others arrived at the grisly vista. Some of them swore, and Logan heard someone turn promptly around again and throw up.   
  
"Lance?" Kitty stepped forward again, letting go of Rogue and fumbling blindly with one hand. "God dammit, will someone tell me where he is, right *now*!"   
  
A flash of blue, the rhythm of furry footfalls. Kurt dashed to the sightless girl's side and grasped her arm in his hands, guiding her away from the scene.   
  
"Kurt?" she said indignantly. "Leave off, I gotta make sure Lance is okay. If you, like, wanna be useful then take me to him - "   
  
"Kätzchen, please," Kurt implored, words hitching involuntarily in his gullet. "Please, don't. Just come with me - Kätzchen."   
  
"Kurt, I said let *go*," Kitty snapped, yanking herself away and repositioning Hope in her arms.   
  
"Kätzchen..." Kurt said brokenly.   
  
Something in his tone must have set the alarm bells ringing, because Kitty's head instantly jerked up. "Kurt, what's wrong? Kurt... it's something terrible, isn't it? I can hear it in your voice. Is it about Lance? Kurt, tell me! *Tell me*!"   
  
Kurt turned and looked to the others for help, but they seemed just as shocked and at a loss as he was.   
  
Rogue stepped closer, laying a hand on Kitty's shoulder and murmuring softy, "Come away, girl. There ain't nuthin' you can do now - "   
  
Kitty's jaw dropped to her chest as the realisation of what they were saying sank in. "What're you... oh no! *No*! Not him! Not that! *Anything* but that!"   
  
She tore herself away from both of them, stumbling backwards in her haste to be free of their well-meaning hands. Alvin caught her, and at his familiar, musty scent Kitty turned and stared blindly up into his face. "Alvin," she said. "Please, tell me they're wrong. Lance is okay, isn't he? Right?"   
  
Alvin bit his lip and drew her into an embrace. "I'm sorry, my dear. I truly am."   
  
"No," Kitty whispered. "Oh God, please, just... just, no. Oh, Lance. Lance, you bastard..." She collapsed into the preacher's arms, sobbing and cradling Hope like the baby girl was all she had left.   
  
Alvin shushed her, and when she sank to her knees he followed suit and soothed her woes as best he could. Yet he could do little more, and Kitty emptied her tears against him as the rest of their party looked on helplessly.   
  
It hadn't even been thirty minutes since they stopped the bus, and now they were faced with a situation none of them quite knew how to deal with. Even Logan seemed at a loss, and stared blankly at Raven and Lance's faces, as if he could wake them up just by looking at them. Kitty's wails echoed all their sentiments, as she hiccupped and wept her grief into Alvin's robe like her heart would burst.   
  
Something shattered amongst them at that moment, and they all looked to the water-wall and those located beyond with a sudden, heavy mantle settling upon their hearts.   
  
Today had seen the worst happen.   
  
Today had seen them lose one of their own.  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
******************* 


	26. Falling

A/N ~ Twelve reviews for one chapter? ^_^ I can't really top the smiley for describing how I felt when I saw that. Lance's death got even more attention than Robyn's. However, as evidenced in this chapter, red herrings are no longer a feature when walking the fine line between life and death...  
  
The Phantom; Please continue with your happy jig of evil joy. Or even your happy jug of evil joy. Hmmm... *Imagines nefarious milk jug* Oh the possibilities...  
  
Lonley Poet; Thank you for the compliment. Here's some smelling salts for the fainting.  
  
Witch-UK; Wanda... well, let's just see what happens next before we pack her off the Hades, shall we? :)  
  
Krazy Xanadu; Pyro? Um... I'm assuming he's off in Australia somewhere (fear my geographical skillz!), so he might be alive. Or he might not. In other news, characterisation - huzzah!  
  
UnknownSource; Wolfsbane will indeed be making further appearances, and will indeed be taking the psychotic route around the dream pool. Hang on a second... *reads post again* Kill Dazzler? You're worse than me for character deaths!  
  
Risa; *Stands up a la AA meeting* Hello. My name's Scribbler, and I'm evil. ^_^ Yes, Pietro does seem a few fruits short of a basket at the moment, doesn't he? 'Did he not think dropping off a girl at a mental institution might make her a tad bit screwy? Quicksilver? Slow?... Now I know it's possible.' I so very much love you for saying that. It quite literally made me fall out of my chair laughing.  
  
Amarth Obstreperous; Traumatised people all over the shop. Hee hee...   
  
Yma; See, I told you Magneto has fans. Especially Magneto-with-a-heart, of which you are fic-queen.  
  
Remedy=Chill; You know, I wish I'd thought of verbalizing my argument for Lance's death that way. Blindsiding. How unfortunately true. And thanks for the email. I'd have replied, but Hotmail hates me at the moment. I think most of my mail is ending up in Taiwan somewhere...  
  
Ambrosia; See above. Death blindsides us. We seldom see it coming. Hence, Lance. Pertaining to his prophecy, I'll paraphrase what I said at time of writing when asked the same thing. He did fulfil his role if you take his centre and sense to be the life he set up with Kitty, and produced in Hope. Ariel is pretty much expending all energy just keeping that huge water wall standing upright, so he's all tuckered out and on the verge of collapsing - not exactly rescuer material. Wanda's powers will soon prove themselves as not all they're cracked up to be. 'Marie' is indeed from the movieverse, but as far as I know that's the only 'other' name ever given to Rogue in *any* incarnation of the X-Men. Raven is, according to the official Marvel site, Mystique's given name, also. On a lighter note, yay, Buffy!   
  
Charmed1s; Thanks for the praise. ^_^  
  
*******************  
  
Twenty-sixth Fragment ~ Falling  
  
*******************  
  
Pietro stared. His mouth flapped open and shut, but somehow no words were forthcoming.   
  
Wanda floated, a smug smile etching her face. She let her arm drop, but kept gazing skywards, at the spot so recently vacated by her brother's companions. Gradually her smile widened into a proper grin, and she chuckled once before looking down at him with a satisfied nod.   
  
"All gone. Bye-bye birdie."   
  
Pietro's eyes grated her way, and his jaw snapped shut with an almost audible clack. "Why did you do that?" he asked in a whisper. "They hadn't done anything to you. You might've killed them, and for what?"   
  
"They were interfering," Wanda replied, patently unconcerned. "And if any more of your little buddies try to be meddlesome, they'll get the same. Except," she pressed a finger to her chin, "they aren't really your buddies, are they? Nope. No siree. Little lackey Pie-Pie don't got no friends. Stepping stones, yes. People he uses, most definitely. But friends? Nu-uh. He's too concerned with himself, and how he can please Daddy next to have real friends. People are worthless to him unless they're useful; unless they fit into his plans. Like me. I never fit into your world, did I Speedy? I was an inconvenience, so I had to go bye-de-bye. Just another rock on your way to the top, huh?"   
  
Pietro felt an inexplicable lump rise in his gullet, and forced it down again. "Is that what you really think?"   
  
"It's not about what I *think*. It's about what's true. You're too wrapped up in your own little world to think of people as more than commodities. You know your trouble?" She levitated backwards and twirled her arms in a dance to music only she could hear. "You're selfish. Arrogant. Think you're better than everyone. So it's my job to take you down a peg or two. That, and settle a couple of scores of my own. Believe me, against you, I got plenty."   
  
Pietro's eyes narrowed. "You're not the Wanda I knew."   
  
"Well, *duh*." She rolled her eyes and rammed her fists against her hips. "Ten years in a mental institution, followed by four as a stinking mutie guinea pig in a research lab can affect a person, y'know."   
  
"Research lab?" Pietro's voice faltered a little. "What do you mean...?"   
  
"Slice n' dice, n' splice; s'not nice," she warbled. "I didn't even know what mutants were properly, before the orderlies told me I was one. Never heard the word before. Sure, Daddio used to feed us that crap about being 'different', but he never used the name. He said we were 'special'. The medical man told me I was special, too, right before he cut me open. Slit, slit, slit, slit, right through my head."   
  
She lifted a lock of bedraggled hair and pointed to an ugly purple scar almost identical to those Rogue wore.   
  
"He saw my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams - everything about me. It's all in here, and he and his partners riffled through it time after time." She giggled, and began to sing; "Time after time. When you're lost and alone, then you will find me. Time after time. Time after time. Time after... You know, I never really liked that song. Pukey lyrics. So needlessly sentimental." She pulled a face, then smiled and clapped her hands. "Maudlin, that's what they are. Maudlin."  
  
Pietro gawped. "So that's what... oh God. Wanda, I'm so sorry. I had no idea - "   
  
"Now *there's* a big surprise. Pietro had no clue, yet again. Don't think much for yourself, do you?" She dropped to the asphalt and crouched beside him, pushing forward until her face was millimetres away from his and their noses were practically touching.   
  
Pietro reeled back, but his arms were still pinned with her holding the rope, and he could do little but scuttle backwards on his rear, which got him exactly nowhere.   
  
They stayed that way for a few seconds; the only sound around them that of rushing water. Faintly, Pietro thought he could hear a noise like someone crying, wailing like a banshee or broken soul. He wondered whom it could be - what had happened to cause such unsolicited misery?  
  
Perhaps he would've listened more if Wanda's eyes hadn't held him so entirely. They were a lot darker than he remembered, but lit with the inner light of madness, and when she blinked they flashed dangerously at him. It was like looking into a mirror of his old self, before Kurt had found him, and he resisted the urge to look away in revulsion.   
  
"For years I survived in that place. It wasn't living; it was just existing. They put numbers on my arm; see?" She pulled back and thrust her wrist at him, revealing a line of tattooed digits embed into the skin like a brand. "I used to look at them, and they'd dance for me. Just for me. They'd show me pictures of things I wanted to see. They'd show me *his* death, how he slowly and agonizingly died at my hands. I wanted to wring his neck, hear his spine crunch and shatter under my fingers, and they gave that to me. I wanted to see his blood, wanted to see the look in his eyes when he realised that the daughter he'd so callously tossed aside was back. She was back, and she was *so* pissed with her *Daddy*."   
  
Pietro wet his lips. "Wanda - "   
  
Her tone changed abruptly, and became wistful. "But it wasn't to be..." Her gaze fixed on some unknown spot just above his head, somewhere in the middle distance.   
  
Then, anruptly, she shot backwards; mismatched feet dragging as some invisible force suspended her above the floor again. She seemed to prefer the air to the ground, and undulated up and down as she spoke, a hand stroking through an imaginary beard in ostensible thought.   
  
"No, *he* was taken away before I got out. Vanished into thin air - *poof*!" She smacked her palms together, and then held them out, demonstrating their emptiness. "Did the plague get him? Did the Hunters? Did other mutants, sick of his preaching? I don't know. He was always a slippery one, even when we were kids. Tricky, tricky, tricky, trickier, trickiest! Slippery as a snake, sneaking away and fobbing his children off with excuses about how he was 'making them better' when he stuck them with needles and fed them more drugs than a pusher sells in a year. Daddy Dearest may well be dead now, but it's the same either way. Dead or alive, I can't get at him. I'm not allowed to dish out his punishment. Unfair, huh? To get so far, and then be pipped at the post by someone else. So, Pie-Pie, it looks like you get a double helping." She grinned expansively, rubbing her hands together in happiness. "Feel lucky? Twice the comeuppance in one personal package. Now that *is* privileged."   
  
A cold knot of fear manifested in Pietro's gut like a block of ice, and he squirmed at the bonds that held him. "Wanda, please... I didn't mean to... God, I never knew. What can I say to you? I-I-I'm sorry," he finished lamely.   
  
"You're *sorry*." Wanda blinked, then threw back her head and laughed. "He's sorry. Hey, Water Baby, d'ya hear that? He's *sorry*. Well, that makes it all okay then, doesn't it. One word and we're all back to the way we were. Like a magical spell. Abracadabra!"   
  
She looked at her hands, flexing her fingers and turning them over critically.   
  
"Hmmm, didn't work. I'm still exactly the same. Everything's still the same. Let's try *your* magic word now, shall we? You're *sorry*. Sorry. He's sorry. He's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry." She started to shake her head from side to side, speeding up until her words tripped over themselves and merged into a meaningless hum. "He's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry, sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry!"   
  
Wanda shrieked, then flew towards her brother and slapped him so hard he tumbled backwards again, bouncing his skull against the asphalt.   
  
"Sorry doesn't cut it, Pietro!" she roared. "You and Father put me through hell, and no itsy bitsy, meaningless apologies are *ever* gonna put that right. You sold me, and now I've come back to collect the debt I'm owed!"   
  
"Wanda," Pietro started, but was cut off by a punch to the jaw.   
  
"Shut up!" she screeched. "Shut up! I don't wanna hear any more of your lies! I'm sick of talking! Words don't solve anything!" She yanked the energy rope, dragging him across the ground towards her and landing a sneaker in his face the moment he got in range. "Nothing. They didn't stop the war on mutants, did they? They didn't stop the virus? They're meaningless. They mean nothing! You hear me? *Nothing*! *NOTHING*!"   
  
Pietro reeled as her sudden anger translated itself into raw energy, which coursed down the rope and into him with all the force of an electric shock. He couldn't help himself from crying out, though he bit his lip until blood flowed. Savage energy coursed through his veins, designed to hurt beyond belief but let him remain conscious so as to endure the pain. It was too much - just too much. He couldn't bear it.   
  
And Pietro screamed.  
  
*******************  
  
Kurt's head jerked up, as did Logan's. Both of them possessed exceptional hearing, and they exchanged a meaningful glance.   
  
"What?" asked Jamie, who was closest. "What are you two looking like that for?"   
  
"It's Pietro," Kurt replied simply.   
  
Logan grunted. "Well, at least the kid's still alive."   
  
"Jawohl, but for how much longer?" Kurt's golden eyes were harsh, made even more soulful than usual by the harrowing sight still laid out before them. "He's in pain - you can hear him just as well as I can. We have to *do* something!"   
  
"Yeah, but," Jamie's volume dropped, and he muttered, "look what happened the last time we did that. Great success, huh?"   
  
Kurt rounded on him, bristling, and looking for all the world like an enraged blue demon. His fangs flashed white, and his tail lashed the air angrily, as grief made his rage that little bit sharper, and he spat, "I'm not leaving any one of us to die alone like that. I don't know how things work where you're from, Verhärtetes [1], but I'd rather die than forsake another member of my family!" Flecks of saliva sprayed from his mouth, and it looked quite possible that he would leap at the smaller boy had Logan not reached up and place a restraining hand on his arm.   
  
"Elf," he said firmly. Raven's head was cradled in his lap, so he was twisted around to speak with the younger mutant. "Gettin' angry won't solve nuthin'. Now's the time for you to use your brain instead of your muscle, and that involves keepin' a clear head. So calm down, and let's try to figure out what we're gonna do next."   
  
Rogue readjusted Robyn in her arms and gave a savage sigh. "Ach, if only we could *see* what the hell's happenin' on the other side of that there wall." She nodded towards the screen of water and scowled at it. "P'raps then we could figure out what we're supposed to do to help Pietro without - " She caught herself just in time. She'd been about to say 'without getting ourselves killed', but a chance glimpse of Kitty's tearstained face, glasses askew and streaked with grime, made her bite her tongue so hard that the coppery tang of blood spread throughout the inside of her mouth.   
  
Kurt blinked, and then snapped his fingers. "*See*! Of course!" He whirled around and started to gallop on all fours back towards the bus.   
  
Rogue looked at those left who would meet her eyes. "Excuse me?"   
  
Jamie shrugged indifferently. "Don't ask me. I don't speak elf."   
  
Of all of them, the scout seemed the least affected by what had happened. Most of the Bayville crew put it down to the fact that he hadn't know either Lance or Raven long enough to bother himself with what had happened to them, but in truth it was just a quirk of his personality that he remained rather detached from scenarios such as these. He'd been 'born' into a battle of death and violence, and his first few memories were of being struck repeatedly by a fist and then left for dead, before Grasshopper came and found him and took him and the other separated clones to Mutie Town. Jamie was a survivor, and it was at times like this that the ability was shown in all its cruel and apathetic light.   
  
Kurt reappeared a few moments later, clutching what looked like a pair of binoculars in either hand. Evidently he'd retrieved those Pietro dropped when he first ran off, and been to the jeep to fetch another set as well.   
  
"All very nice, Kurt," said Rogue, "but they ain't gonna see through that. The water's too foamy, and movin' too fast for - "   
  
"Nein, these aren't normal binoculars. Forge made them. These inventions are *designed* for things like this. Don't ask me how they work, but trust me, they can see through this wall. They did earlier, right Herr Logan?"   
  
In answer, the gruff mutant held out his hands for a pair, and then brought the eye-lenses to his eyes.   
  
A hissed curse shot past his lips the moment they refocused enough to show exactly what was going on beyond the water-wall, and Kurt hastily placed the second pair to his own face so as to put images with the sounds he could hear over the roar of surging water.   
  
"Scheisse!"   
  
*******************  
  
Ariel's legs shook so much that he had to sit, so he fell to the ground. He had no doubt of what would happen if he failed, so he put all of his effort into maintaining the wall.   
  
So tired.   
  
So thirsty.   
  
Would she notice if he sneaked a ball of water to refresh his gills and quench his thirst? She seemed so focussed on the albino, now...   
  
Carefully, slowly, he pulled a ball of water from the wall.   
  
Would she notice?   
  
He prayed she wouldn't.   
  
*******************  
  
Kitty felt her way into the bus, and gently buckled Hope into her safety seat. Then she felt along the other seats until she found a feathered, scaly child. Kitty shook her.   
  
"Daisy? Daisy, I need you to wake up."   
  
"Mnh?" Daisy shifted a little. "...'m tired..."   
  
"I know, honey, but I need you. I... I need you to use your powers."   
  
Daisy moved, sitting up. "Huh?"   
  
"I need you to do what you did for Robyn," Kitty explained. "It's Lance. He... he fell... I need you to fix it."   
  
Daisy screwed up her face, glancing out of the window to where the others were clustered. "I can't," she said after a moment, as if assessing the situation from afar. "Robyn wasn't properly dead yet. Kurti kept her cold enough that the little girl could help her. I - I can't feel anyone who can bring back someone who's all-the-way dead."   
  
Instantly, Kitty broke down into fresh helpless paroxysms of weeping. "No. No. No..."   
  
Daisy petted her hair and fixed her sunglasses and hugged her tight as her feeble strength would allow. "I'm sorry I can't fix it. There's just some things that stay broken... I'm sorry..."   
  
But sorry wasn't a lot of help to her, right then.   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro flew a good three feet through the air, courtesy of Wanda's left foot. However, rather than crashing down, as Newton's Law demanded he should, he instead twanged back as per the wishes of her energy rope. His face thus made contact once again with her fist, and he crumpled into a gasping heap at her feet, a small spatter of blood leaking from his nose.   
  
Wanda wasted no time in waiting for him to get up. For one of the few times since their battle (the word being used in its loosest sense, since it more resembled an all-out beating on her part), she came to earth, blue-green energy fizzling angrily around her like an angelic aura gone terribly awry.   
  
Leaning on one leg, she planted her other foot squarely in Pietro's chest with enough force to send him sprawling backwards, his head hitting the ground with a solid thunk.  
  
He blinked up at the sky, vision momentarily invaded by thousands of rushing stars that were quickly driven out by the burst of pain emanating from the back of his skull.   
  
Dazed, he didn't move even when Wanda landed, stamping a foot either side of his head so close that several white hairs tore loose under her soles. She leaned down, grabbing his shirt where lapels would have been. There was the faintest sensation of freedom in his arms as her attention became unable to deal with maintaining the rope as well as beating the living shit out of him. however, he barely noticed the newfound autonomy as Wanda rained blows down upon his face. Twisting, he tried to avoid her fist, but it was useless, and soon he was bloody and had the beginnings of several ugly bruises.   
  
He tried to get up, but a sneaker pressed against his gut soon cured him of that particular alleyway. The strikes became harder, faster, each one punctuated by a furious shout that ripped from Wanda's lips almost painfully. She punched repeatedly, rhythmically, heedless of her own cut and bleeding knuckles. Years of neglect and mistreatment fuelled her rage, and she unleashed it upon her hapless sibling until her arms hurt and his head was a mask of blood.   
  
Gasping, Wanda finally drew back, letting Pietro flop back onto the asphalt. She kept one foot pinned to his midriff and surveyed her handiwork with morbid satisfaction. His once-beautiful features were caked in thick, viscous red, and one eye was already beginning to swell up. His hair was still set into that ridiculous flyaway shape, but now a few strands straggled loose, and here and there were spots of his own blood to ruin and pollute the pastiness. From the neck up he was a mess, and southwards wasn't much better, either.   
  
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she let it get no further. Instead, her features opted for a more puzzled look. She felt good about doing this. Every punch represented a minute spent in captivity, and every kick a needle inserted into her arm, or a new batch of 'anti-mutation' drugs forced into her via an unwelcome intravenous. She was exacting revenge for her lost childhood, her lost life - everything that had been taken from her and crushed underfoot by those too insensitive to care.   
  
So why wasn't she enjoying it?   
  
Her spirits remained routinely low, despite the liberation she should have been feeling. She'd dreamed of this moment, run it through her fevered mind thousands of times and enjoying every single theoretical moment. Now, here she was, Pietro's blood on her hands, his raggedly breathing form open and unprotected at her feet. She should be feeling... something. Anything.   
  
Yet her chest remained tight, concerned more with what she *ought* to be feeling, and the lack thereof than anything else.   
  
Pietro moaned, voice low and sputtering in his throat as the sound forced its way past various bodily obstructions. He coughed, felt something running down his chin, and unsqueezed what he could of his eyes.   
  
Wanda's head snapped up at the sound, and on impulse she stepped sideways of him, drawing her foot back and then swinging it forward again. It drove deep into his undefended side, turning him over and eliciting a choked howl of fresh pain that was abruptly cut off as he rolled. Then he lay, panting, his face pressed against the ground and making no move to rise again.   
  
Wanda frowned and stalked over. Dropping to one knee, she grasped the back of his skull and pulled him up. Pietro blinked at her, still conscious, and at the sight she let out a cry of anger, followed in short order by yet another punch that broke his nose with a sickening crack.   
  
He'd had a chance to escape, to make this more interesting, and he'd muffed it. No matter what her powers, she couldn't keep up with his speed, and in those few seconds between her foot making contact and grabbing his head, he could've made a break for it, or at least tried to stop her.   
  
Yet he'd done nothing. He hadn't even squirmed; instead letting her hurt him more without even an attempt at comeback.   
  
Wanda's puzzlement increased, and with it, so did her fury. One was kindling for the other, and her eyes flashed with unspent energy as she hauled Pietro's limp form upwards and forcibly threw him through the air.   
  
This time he didn't snap back, but a hex-bolt hit him before he had chance to meet with the floor, and it sent him spinning a few more metres. He landed awkwardly, but managed to turn it into a passable roll that left all limbs intact, at least. A few cuts opened up a bit further, and he winced as he achieved more scratches and grazes, but otherwise simply stood up, chest heaving as she approached him again.   
  
Wanda watched Pietro through slitted eyes. He met her gaze stoically, chips of blue telling her exactly nothing. It was like he didn't care what she saw, and that made a screen around his thoughts through sheer apathy.   
  
She sucked in a lungful of air between her teeth, and then threw out her hand, concentrating. Snakes of blue-green issued from her fingertips, ensnaring him again and lifting him from the ground to float at eyelevel with her. His head flopped forward, like his neck was a wet piece of noodle, too weak to support it.   
  
"Why aren't you fighting me?" she asked through gritted teeth. When no answer was forthcoming, she ordered, "Speak!"   
  
It was a long moment before he replied, and even then the response was pithy and insufficient to her increasingly hectic mind. "Because I don't want to."   
  
Wanda sniffed, throwing back her head and staring down her nose at him. "Stupid. You know I'm going to kill you in the end. Not fighting back just means the pain lasts longer until I do."   
  
"I don't care."   
  
"Why? Why don't you care? You're stupid. An idiot, hanging on by a thread. Do you think that by talking with me I'm going to go any easier on you? Is that what you think, huh?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Then what? Why be so accepting? You're not like that - I know. I know you, Pietro. I know you up here," she tapped the side of her head. "You're a fighter. Always have been. Kicking me in the womb. I was born with bruises, and since then you've only given me more. Only they were on the inside, not the outside. You like hurting other people, and hate it when the hurt's turned against you. You fight against it; driving it away with everything you have each time. You think you're unconquerable. So why? *Why*?"   
  
He said nothing, eyes hidden by a thatch of semi-white hair.   
  
"Answer me!" she demanded, voice rising a notch and telltale, dazzling wisps flickering around her clenching and unclenching fists. "*Answer me*! *ANSWER ME*!"   
  
"Because you're my sister."   
  
The shortness of the response took her aback a little, and her concentration faltered just enough for him to fall a few inches, before she recomposed herself and dragged him back up again. Tendrils of her power wrapped themselves around his wrists, securing him further without her having to direct them.   
  
"You're lying," she spat, and mentally tightened the bonds so that they dug into his yielding flesh.   
  
Pietro grimaced, but made no other acknowledgment of the move. "I'm not. For one of the first times in my life, I'm not lying. Wanda, you're my sister. Whatever you think of me and what I've done, you were always that first, to me." His words speeded up, tumbling uncalled from his lips like an unbridled brook over pebbles.   
  
Wanda snarled. "Liar. I was never anything more than an inconvenience to you. Never!"   
  
"You're wrong. I never wanted to see you get hurt, Wanda. And I still don't. You can say what you want about me, but that much is true. You might not believe it, but *I* know that I'm telling the truth, and if I'm gonna die soon then that's all that really matters." He shook his head. "*I* know the truth. I truly never wanted anything bad to happen to you, even when we were kids. You were my big sister; you used to protect me, and I wanted to return the favour when you got sick. I never dreamed things would go as wrong as they have. It... it wasn't meant to be this way - "   
  
"Nice speech, but it is. It *is* this way, and nothing you or I can do will change that. Words don't change the world."   
  
He nodded, slowly. "Even through all that's happened to screw up our lives, Wanda, I still don't wanna ever see you hurt. That's why I won't fight you. You can kill me right now, or later if you want, but I promise you this much. I won't ever raise a finger against you. Not after... what I did to you before. What happened to you... That's a promise."   
  
For a moment, Wanda's eyes wavered. Her lids pulled back, and there was a spark of something completely alien to their stark, bleak environment.   
  
Fear.   
  
Her hand twitched at his announcement, and her mouth moved to speak, but nothing came out. She wanted to revile his declaration; to call him a liar and have done with it. That was, after all, exactly what he was, wasn't it?   
  
Wasn't it?   
  
Something reached out to her. Something tentative. It edged about the fringes of her consciousness, padding around her mind until finally it found a crack and slipped in, probing forward through her confused and muddled thoughts. She tried to push it away, but it was insistent, and she found that she didn't actually want it to leave. There was something tantalisingly familiar about it; yet totally alien.   
  
Twin-bond?   
  
It touched her psyche briefly, ethereal fingers lightly brushing her mind, and there was an explosion of colour.   
  
[A small child, blonde and with dancing blue eyes. He holds a soccer ball in his hands, and tosses it forward, laughing. She kicks it back and he runs after it with her following, laughing all the while]   
  
[Crying. He's crying. She moves to his side and hugs his shoulders, wiping the tears away, doing her best to comfort him. He buries his face into her and they rock together in silence. She wants to comfort him, but he won't tell her what's wrong. He's too proud and stubborn for that.]   
  
[A large boy, squat but broad-shouldered. She stands before him, squaring off against his bulk. It's ridiculous; she'll never win a fight against him. But the quivering figure behind her makes her stay her ground. She has to defend him against this bully. That's what big sisters do - even if they are big sisters only by seven minutes.]   
  
[Blue eyes stare up at her with adoration, as the band-aid is carefully applied to her knee and cheek. He grasps her hand, reiterating yet again how she fought, and how proud of her he is. Her face glows red, but she's pleased. It's nice to see him smile. He tells her of how, when they're all grown up, he's going to take care of her, just like she's taking care of him now. She just smiles and riffles his hair. Grown up is a long time away. There's no point in making plans just yet.]   
  
Wanda gasped, hand flying to herself but wavering as to whether they should be clutching at her chest or skull. She emitted a low groan and plumped for her head, clapping her hands over her ears and drawing the rest of her body up into a foetal position. She rocked back and forth, like a puppet with one of its strings broken.   
  
Pietro looked up at her, but yelped as the bonds imprisoning him abruptly dissolved, and he fell to the earth below. Luckily for him, they were no more than a few feet up, and he landed relatively easily, considering.   
  
Looking up, he saw his sister shaking her head, muttering something to herself.   
  
"Not true. It's not true," she babbled. "Can't be true. Didn't remember it before. Mind-trick. Yeah, that's all it is. Another mind-game, like they used to play in the lab. But... but this isn't like those. No hurting, no electric shock, no collar. Could... could it be? True? But why? Why? Why didn't I remember that before? So clear now. Why didn't I... no, no, no, no, *no*! Not right, not right. Supposed to be killing him. He hurt me, locked me away. Never saw the light for years, and all because of him. My own brother... own brother... Brother? Promises. So many broken promises. Which is the right one? Which? Words... churning inside my head, confusing me... they all just want to confuse me, that's it. That all they're in here for. Leave me alone! Please, just leave me *alone*! Don't wanna listen anymore. Leave me *ALONE*!"   
  
Unexpectedly, her entire body suddenly convulsed, and she tossed back her head with something bordering a feral yell. It ruptured from her throat, more powerful than a clap of thunder and twice as intimidating. Pietro shrank back, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a small golden figure - undoubtedly the 'Water Baby' she'd mentioned earlier - do the same from a sitting position.   
  
Wanda trembled openly, as if she'd been struck by lightning and was being fried from the inside out. Her limbs stretched away from her body, tugging in all different directions, and her fingers splayed so far it was a wonder the skin between them didn't break with the strain. Her chest thrust forward as another agonising scream cleaved into the air.   
  
Pietro dashed forward as best he could, calling up to her. "Wanda! Wan - "   
  
A burst of blue-green knocked him back. It hadn't been aimed, and so created a small crater in the tarmac in front of him, rather than spear him through as it would've done had he been the real target.   
  
More daggers of power followed suit, crackling into the air and making Wanda's unkempt hair stand out from her head in curious peaks and troughs. She opened her eyes, and around them whickered flits of emerald fire.   
  
Pietro suddenly remembered an incident a long time ago, not long before Wanda had been removed to the mental institution. An image of a small girl, screaming and holding her head in pain, as bolts of unwanted and uncontrollable green flame smashed up a room around her briefly crossed his mind; as did his father's lugubrious voice saying that she was 'having an episode'. That had always been the way he phrased it, like she was just throwing a tantrum and could turn it off whenever she wanted.   
  
But Pietro had always felt her pain. Some small part of him had known it was more than just an 'episode'.  
  
Now his eyes widened, and he shouted to her, desperate. "Wanda! *Wanda*!"   
  
She wasn't smiling this time, and didn't even open her fists to let the energy flow out of them. It came forth of its own bidding, slamming into the ground and shattering it in a flurry of broken pieces that Pietro had to shield his face from. Wanda seemed less than pleased with her own doing, now. More terrified at what was happening.   
  
This time, it was she who screamed.  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Callous/heartless one! 


	27. Windswift

A/N ~ Apologies for being a few days late with this update. Uni is manic. Let's hear it for Utopian Writings... -_-;; Feh.   
  
ChaosCat; Pin Cushion Pietro. Heh. And who will be next to go? Will *anybody* be next to go? *Rubs hands together* Oh, the possibilities for torturing you readers...  
  
Krazy Xanadu; Thanks for the compliments. Cliff-hangers will inherit the earth... maybe.   
  
UnknownSource; You know, I really didn't know that about lightning. Learn something new every day, huh? And here is some Magneto especially for you.  
  
The Phantom; Pietro's blue-gold is a facet of this chapter, if you interpret it correctly. But even if you don't, it's clarified later on in the story. And were you watching Absolutely Fabulous when you wrote that review. Mahvellous, sweetie, truly mahvellous.  
  
Naela; Bwee-hee-hee-hee, a new reviewer. Glad you liked the things you liked, and sorry for the things you didn't. The cast doesn't stay so big forever, so at least one of your quibbles will (hopefully) be dealt with as we go. ^_^  
  
Yma; You're very welcome for 'Watch and Learn', babs. I just have to apologise for that gaff concerning Logan's broken arm. *Slaps own wrist* Naughty Scribbler, naughty! Oh, and if you were wondering (and even if you weren't), my favourite chapters in WaL were the ends of the twins and Evan, respectively. Can't beat a good death scene :)  
  
Draganess; Wow, note-taking. I'm touched. And your first and second reactions made me laugh. OMG, he's dead! OMG! He's *still* dead! ^_^  
  
Ambrosia; Okay, I'll concede the point. I wanted it to happen. Therefore, it happened. Slap the handcuff on me now, officer. I promise I'll be a good girl... ;) 'Anruptly' is my crappy typing skills at work, and 'riffle' means 'to leaf through'. You riffle through a book or pamphlet. You're very good at spotting intertextualities, by the way. I was wondering whether anyone would detect the 'Craft' influences. Pertaining to Robyn's temperature, I wouldn't know. I didn't write those lines, and my medicinal knowledge extends to how many paracetamol I'm allowed in a day. I suppose... um... well, Marvel's famous for having plotholes big enough to drive trucks thorugh, so why can't we fan-writers do likewise? Go forth and tweak the nose of continuity, friends!  
  
AerinBrown; I'm weighing the scales for happy vs. unhappy ending. They're about balanced right now, so it could go either way. ;) I love being evil. It's so much more rewarding than being heroic.  
  
Remedy=Chill; Thank you for your kind words, friend.   
  
Witch-UK; Appreciate the review, girl. It's nice when people take the time out to say they're reading - even if it's just a line or two. ^_^  
  
Ricter; You think that was the best chapter? Wow. I say wow, because I actually didn't think it was up to standard. Probably because I pretty much wrote that one alone, save for the Daisy-Kitty scene. That would be InterNutter's doing. And there I go answering your other question.   
  
Nessie6; So many people reviwed this chapter - I is so happy! ^____^  
  
Risa; I don't know... a big-eyed, adorable Pietro would probably have a *lot* of candy stashed away someplace. Y'know, presents from fangirls and suchlike? And just to confuzzle you, while Yma, Id and 'Bean pretty much instigated the whole Jamie situation, it was in fact me who wrote that little scene you referred to. I coerced people into letting me monopolise the Board and wrote the 'bloody bridge scene', as it quickly became known, on my lonesome. So here's some more Jamie for you in this chapter.   
  
Incrediblecuznz; You have no idea how close I came to insulting you whilst misspelling your pseudonym. Thanks for the review, and I'm happy you're happy about the Pietro-Wanda-ness. Yay. ^_^ Hope you can review again this time around.  
  
*******************  
  
Twenty-seventh Fragment ~ Windswift  
  
*******************  
  
"Kurt!" Logan lunged and caught the elf as he tried to dive into the water-wall.   
  
"Let go of me!" Kurt writhed, scratched, and even went so far as to bite the elder mutant's hand. Logan grunted, but the half-moon of teeth-marks was gone in an instant thanks to his healing factor.   
  
"Kurt," he said again, warningly. A short, sharp yank to the tail elicited a cessation of movement, and Kurt turned huge eyes upon his once-teacher.   
  
"But she's killing him," he pleaded. "I won't let anyone else die. I won't!"   
  
"Neither will I, but you're just gonna get yerself killed that way."   
  
"I don't see you making any better suggestions!" he snapped, and twisted free through some incredible bending manoeuvre only he could've managed. "I can't just stand around doing nothing while that... that madwoman tears Pietro apart. Sister or not, she has to be stopped!"   
  
"I know," Logan growled. Then softer, "I know, Elf. But I - " He was abruptly cut off by the scream that rent the air in two around them.   
  
Everyone snapped around at the distinctly female shriek, and saw quivers of green lace the space above the apex of the water-wall. They tore the sky apart like knives, and a few verdant bolts flew over like shards of glass, fizzling to the ground on their side of the obstruction. Kurt leaped away as one landed nearby, and narrowly avoided being hit with the debris it created.   
  
"What the f - " Logan swore, doing likewise in another direction.   
  
"Wanda," said Kurt grimly. "It can only be Wanda's power."   
  
Alvin blinked. "But if she's turning it on us, then that must mean she's finished with Master Windswift."   
  
Kurt's eyes rounded, and he renewed his charge at the rushing torrent, only to be beaten back by a flurry of explosions that rocked the ground beneath them. "Pietro!" he called desperately. "*Pietro*!"   
  
"Look out!" A body crashed into him, and Kurt crashed to the ground. A foundered hex-bolt skimmed the tip of his tail as it reflexively arched into the air, taking a layer of fur and skin with it and rendering the patch of floor behind them a smoking crater.   
  
"You okay?" asked one of the three new Jamies. Kurt nodded, but struggled to get to his feet. A clone grabbed his wrist and dragged him back down again. "Our objective is survival," he gritted.   
  
"But Pietro - "   
  
"Is already lost. I'm sorry. I don't like the idea any more than you do, but if any of us try to rescue him through that then we'll be frazzled before we get to within an inch of the Blessed One - and that's assuming we can even get over that wall first." As if to punctuate his words, another barrage of hex-bolts lanced the ground.   
  
"Fall back!" Kurt dimly heard Logan bellow, and caught a glimpse of the burly mutant scooping Raven into his arms. Her long red hair hung loose around her head, and he could only see one of her hands dangling down. Splots of red dripped from her body, and her eyes were closed.   
  
"Mother," he whispered, torn. Rogue flashed past, a clutch of swaddling that was Robyn held tight to her chest. Alvin pursued her, a broken bundle of brown hair and leather slung over his shoulder and staining the back of his robe. "Kleines... but I have to - "   
  
"Incoming!" One of the Jamies wrenched Kurt upright and forcibly threw him aside as a familiar whistling sounded overhead. The impact came a second later, blowing all four of them back yet further.   
  
Kurt looked up, and noted with some irony that he'd been hurled yet *further* away from the water-wall. Hex-bolts flew over it, thick and fast. They resembled a miniature meteor shower, and would've been strikingly beautiful, had it not been for the massive destruction left in their wake. One of the Jamies was too close, and an arc of green surged towards him like lightning.   
  
Kurt was running before he knew it, but tears were already blinding him as the clone was struck down. As one, the two remaining Jamies screamed, but both had the good sense to flee the scene before they, too, were incinerated. They caught at both of Kurt's arms and dragged him rearwards, stumbling and tripping in their haste and vicarious pain, and Kurt could only watch as the smouldering remains crumbled to dust behind them.   
  
*******************  
  
"So you were just gonna leave me behind..."  
  
"...without saying *anything*, then?"   
  
Erik sighed and rubbed at the sore spot between his eyes. He halted in his tracks and turned around, fixing the ostensible twin boys who had followed him to the outer corridors of the asteroid with a baleful stare. They at least had the good decency to look abashed at their pestering.   
  
"Multiple, you have to understand. This isn't just another training simulation. This is a real mission, and we can't afford any mishaps. You're recent... condition is cause for concern on that front."   
  
Simultaneously, the pair scuffed their feet. "But I can help," they said together.   
  
"And what happens if another of your clones dies somewhere while you're in the midst of a battle? You know what'll happen. By coming along in spite of that, you'd be putting the rest of the team in danger. Maybe even consigning them to death. Is that what you want?"   
  
"No," they mumbled grudgingly, and toed the metallic floor some more. "But I wanna *do* something. I'm not just a passenger here. What else can I do but fight?"   
  
"Fighting... isn't always the answer," Erik said thoughtfully, the image of Xavier playing about his mind's eye. "Sometimes there are more important tasks that must be completed instead. Other approaches...."   
  
"Such as? Tell me, so I can be helpf - " The words gargled away in their throats, and both Jamies sank to their knees with sudden paleness invading their cheeks. Their eyes enlarged until they dominated each face, and a soundless scream flexed their gullets as they each toppled over and writhed on the floor.   
  
Erik was beside him in a second. "What? What is it?" he demanded, worry tincturing his voice.   
  
"Hurts," whispered one Jamie, scratching at his face and leaving grooves in his cheeks as he clawed at some invisible pain-giver. "Hurts so much!"   
  
"Fire," said the other, squeezing his eyes shut in obvious agony. "Can't stop it. Too fast, I... I - AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" and he slumped into a limp heap. His doppelganger did likewise, but not before whispering a word that stirred something in Erik's chest and caused a wave of ice to wash over his usually stoic features.   
  
"Run, Windswift. Run from her and save yourself..."   
  
He froze. Windswift? An old memory reared up in his mind. That had been a childhood nickname for his son. He'd ceased to use it years ago, about the time the boy became reclusive and anti-social following the loss of his sister. They'd never really shared the same closeness after that, and nicknames became a thing of the past, relegated to recollections of happier times.   
  
Footsteps pounded the corridor, and a shadow fell across them. "What's going on?" said Brian's unmistakably English voice.   
  
"I think... another clone was destroyed on Earth," Erik ventured.   
  
Brian nodded, not needing any more explanation than that. "Shall I take him to the med-lab? So you can go, I mean."   
  
"What? Uh - yes. Yes, take him there to recover."   
  
He moved aside, and Brian stooped to pick up the inert cloner. "It must've been bad this time to have this dramatic a reaction. I hate to think what he saw. He sees through the eyes of a clone for a few seconds before it dies, you know."   
  
"I know," Erik said, nodding. "He told me such, when there were far more of him." With a swish of his cloak, he turned away and began walking sedately towards the capsule bay. "Take care of him. The rest of the team are waiting for me."   
  
"Will do, sir," Brian replied, flicking a casual salute as he always did, and wondering why the cheery gesture wasn't reciprocated like usual.  
  
*******************  
  
Wanda screamed, loud and long. Her hands were little more than balls of glowing green fire, fingers indistinguishable in the blaze. Around her billowed a cloud of jade as deadly as it was beautiful. Her eyes were wide and terrified as she literally *felt* herself losing control. It was like having the proverbial mat suddenly yanked out from beneath her feet.   
  
Below, Pietro dodged and weaved, trying to avoid the barrage of random hex-bolts skittering down on him. His speed had never been such an asset, and he managed to pass several hectic minutes with only a few scorch marks to show for it. In another time, he might've gloated over his achievement, but right now he was far too concerned with the drama playing out above him.   
  
There was no time for yelling her name, as he'd begun doing right before a hex-bolt flew at his heart. He just hoped that she could see him; that she knew he was here for her. In truth, he had no real idea of what to do in the situation, but some small part of him hoped against hope that his continued presence on the battlefield counted for *something*. He'd never been much of a believer in fate, but he was open to any idea if it portended the best outcome.   
  
The sounds of many voices crying out in terror and pain reached his ears from somewhere, and he chanced a look at the water-wall.   
  
Big mistake.   
  
One should always keep one's eyes on the ground ahead when travelling at excessive speeds. Especially when the ground ahead isn't staying ahead, and instead insists upon flying into the air and shattering at the most inopportune moments.   
  
His foot had barely touched the tarmac when it exploded beneath him, sending him hurling into the air along with enough debris to cause considerable damage. Pietro twisted in mid-flight, bringing his legs around so that they landed under him, feet first. The impact was jarring to say the least, but he retained enough momentum to avoid the wreckage that landed in his wake.   
  
He barely noticed the small golden lump in the road until he was nearly on top of it, and swerved at the very last second to skid to a halt inches before his nose ploughed straight into the swirling barricade.   
  
He glanced down, and was rewarded with the sight of a small kid - visible mutant, no question. Possible second gen. In place of skin he had scales, but they were soft and the colour of sunlight, rather than the harsh olive lizardine style Daisy possessed. Twin orbs of molten fear stared up at him, mixed with pronounced exhaustion and the distinct beginnings of shock. The kid's arms were outstretched, hands trembling like he was caught in an earth tremor, and every now and then a muscle in his jaw twitched with obvious effort of concentration.   
  
"Water Baby?" Pietro wheezed.   
  
The kid said nothing, but his entire body started to shake a little bit more at the name.   
  
{RUMBLERUMBLERUMBLERUMBLE-CRASH!}   
  
Pietro's head snapped around at the all-too-familiar sound of a hex-bolt churning the concrete towards them, leaving a trail of upturned terrain like that of Bugs Bunny on acid. On impulse, the speedster grabbed the scaly kid and moved, ignoring aching muscles. His limbs were designed for short dashes, but not this never-ending rush Wanda was forcing him into.   
  
The kid yipped as he was gathered up, but his voice immediately switched to a wail as the sound of falling water smacking against concrete reverberated around them.   
  
Pietro didn't even have to turn around for his mind to make the sickening connection. _*Water Baby*, shit!_   
  
Several tonnes of water came crashing down onto the bridge and swept along and over it as the cause for its incarceration was suddenly removed from the equation. What resembled a tsunami powered along behind both speedster and his charge, and Pietro was hard pushed to keep ahead of the angry torrent. He pumped his legs faster than he'd ever gone before, permanently aware of the surging spray flickering the backs of his heels. His nerve endings screeched, but he beat them down again, ordering his muscles to work harder. He could breathe later, but for now, moving was the most imperative thing in the entire world.   
  
He kept running even after the last of the water had washed over the sides, spinning around and turning a wide arc as soon as he was sure it was safe to do so. Instantly he did, he saw that the way had finally opened up between himself and the bus, and all contents therein.   
  
However, there was still one very prominent obstacle blocking his path from here to there.   
  
And her name was Wanda.  
  
*******************  
  
In the fertile land of the Goddess, all was not well.   
  
Seer stood in the centre of a crowd, surrounded on all sides by eager listeners. The Goddess herself sat in her battered old wheelchair at the front, listening fervently to the soft whispers their prophet spoke.   
  
"Brother Time has met Lady Luck," Seer intoned, voice calm and almost mechanical. "Fire, Earth, Air and Water have all met. Now is the time when the God of Earth shall fall from the sky..."   
  
*******************  
  
"... And the Lady of Sky shall rise from the earth," murmured Scry in a small, cramped room of Mutie-Town, where a similar scene played out. "Together they will bring each other home. Together their family shall be complete. Together they will return to their proper places. And they shall be bound together with a ring of gold. Bathed in blood and love, pain and joy, family and separation, a phoenix shall be born from the ashes of the Old World."   
  
"Wuzzit mean?" whispered one of the watchers.   
  
"It means," said Scry, blinking from his Vision, "That we'd better prepare."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The Lord of Earth is coming."  
  
*******************  
  
Rogue looked back, as Logan, with Raven in his arms, clambered onto the waiting bus before her. In the interim, she stole a glance towards where Kurt was being forcibly dragged along by a pair of Jamies. Thus it was that, when the water-wall came crashing down, she and her brother were the first to see it.   
  
"Look out!" she cried, and began running towards the trio until she remembered the precious charge in her arms. Robyn was heavy, and Rogue had no wish to accidentally drop her adoptive sister through manhandling her. However, she bit her lip until blood flowed watching Kurt and his 'keepers' run faster, trying to escape the torrent surging towards them.   
  
They began climbing the slight incline upon which the bus was parked just as the water reached them. Rogue's breath caught in her gullet. They weren't going to make it! They were too close to the base - too close! The sheer force would crush them -   
  
A whoosh of air left her lungs when, as one, they threw themselves forward and landed with mere inches to spare on the ground. The remnants of the water-wall impacted, albeit with less power than had they been situated closer to ground zero. However, when he sat up, it was obvious that Kurt's tail was dripping wet, indicating just how close a call it'd been. The presence of yet another Jamie-clone only emphasised it.   
  
Rogue started to descend, being careful to rearrange Robyn in her arms. She opened her mouth to call out and ask those who'd so narrowly escaped death of they were okay. Slamming against the earth like that couldn't have helped Kurt's cracked rib, she was certain, and the Jamies were all looking shell-shocked.   
  
Yet when Kurt ignored her cry, and instead set up one of his own, she halted in her tracks. Lifting her eyes she saw what he was yelling about, and a cold shiver traced the length of her spin alongside a sense of intense relief.   
  
"Pietro!"   
  
*******************  
  
Wanda screeched in absolute pain. Her entire body bucked and writhed not unlike a person being electrocuted, and rivers of agonised tears tracked her cheeks in a show of weakness she never would've allowed under normal circumstances. All her life she'd dedicated herself to appearing strong, whether for her brother's protection, or her own when faced with the oft-violent orderlies and doctors of the mental institution and research lab alike. To show weakness was to incite more pain, and she was nothing if not a fighter.   
  
Pietro cradled the water-child's trembling form against him and stared up at her, features twisting into barely masked misery. He vaguely noticed the kid weeping over his shoulder, and placed what he hoped was a soothing hand against his back to comfort him.   
  
_Comfort? At a time like this?_ he thought wryly, and with more than a trace of bitterness. _Ha!_   
  
Something jolted through his chest, and he resisted the urge to weep just like his sister was doing. Her pain and unhappiness transferred itself in small bursts through that strange, intangible link they'd shared since childhood. It wasn't as constant as it once was, but still he could sense her anger and anguish as sharply as if they were his own.   
  
Briefly he wondered if she could sense him the way he was sensing her. When they were small, he'd speculated over whether other twins had bonds like theirs. Their father had never taken his questions seriously, until one day he suggested that perhaps the link was something to do with their mutations. That had stirred his interest all right; as well as stirring him into subjecting his children to yet more rigmarole and tests they neither understood nor enjoyed. Memories of those times were indelibly imprinted onto Pietro's psyche, and now they flashed across his brain in an uncomfortable moment of clarity.   
  
He dodged aside when another hex-bolt came to ground, and vaguely noticed that he didn't have to move quite so fast now. The number of bolts sent out was growing smaller, and for a second he dared to hope that this meant Wanda's 'episode' was also dimming.   
  
A glance up at her quelled that idea. The green 'cloak' surrounding her was growing, being fed by the unshed hex-bolts until it swelled to twice the size it had been mere moments ago. Wanda shook with the amount of power coursing through her, though it was unclear whether she was calling it back, or whether her reserves were being depleted by the previous outburst. Either way, soon there were no more missiles flying randomly forth, and Pietro was finally able to come to a stop and rest his weary legs.   
  
"Pietro!"   
  
That voice. It filtered through the pounding of blood in his ears so quietly that at first he thought it was a figment of his imagination.   
  
"Pietro!"   
  
And again. This time he looked up, and was rewarded by the sight of a familiar blue figure bounding haphazardly on all-fours across the devastation towards him. A ways behind him came another, white face bright and feet moving quickly as she pelted down the slope.   
  
"Pietro!" the foremost called again, and by squinting Pietro saw the joyous expression etching Kurt's face. His movements were slightly jerky, as if he was injured in some way, but his pace didn't diminish, and within seconds the elf was no more than a few feet away, standing in exactly the same spot the water-wall had occupied not long before.   
  
Pietro blinked. What with all the screaming and debris and AWOL power disappearing behind the wall, a part of his mind had assumed the others were dead. His intense concentration on his twin hadn't helped matters either. He didn't know quite how to react, and so only stood there gormlessly. "Kurt? Rogue?"   
  
Kurt scudded forward. "Pietro! You're alive!"   
  
Another jolt of empathy lanced the speedster's chest with such vigour that he found himself short of breath, and gasped openly. Kurt's footsteps momentarily faltered, which was just as well, for at that moment a spurt of jade light arced down and impaled the spot he was just about to step into.   
  
That brought Pietro out of his stupor quick-sharpish, and he whipped his head up.   
  
Wanda glared down at them all like a transmuted angel, eyes glowing menacingly and fists clenched tightly by her sides. Her cheeks were still wet, but even as he watched the moisture sizzled and evaporated into the air as if it'd never been. Her power fanned out around her, whispering away in curls and twists at the edges, but pounding like a furnace at its centre. Her mouth was set into a grin line that belied her earlier distress, and as her brother looked on helplessly she raised a fist and hurled what resembled a lightning bolt at Kurt.   
  
The elf leaped away, and it exploded uselessly upon the already ravished ground.   
  
"Wanda! No!" Pietro squeaked, then louder. "Please, Wanda! Stop!"   
  
In answer, she rounded on him and bared her teeth in a silent snarl. Her mouth was filled with pallid fire that trickled over her lips and was absorbed into the ever-growing mass around her. She said nothing, but refrained from attacking him directly. Instead, another arc flew at Kurt.   
  
"*Wanda*!" Pietro screamed, and made to take a step forward. However, his muscles, already exhausted, refused to co-operate, and he sank to his knees, clutching the juddering water-child to him to prevent from collapsing entirely.   
  
His sibling descended from the air to hover, scant inches above the floor. She was completely mute as she flung both arms out and unleashed a bolt of power that threw her backwards a few feet. Kurt saw it coming the instant it left her hands, but it careered towards him so fast that he'd barely tensed his legs to get clear before it was singing his whiskers.   
  
"Kurt!" yelled two separate voices.   
  
{BAMF!}   
  
The elf tumbled to earth not far behind Rogue, and she turned to see him drop into an unmoving heap, the last of his strength sapped by teleporting. Only the rapid rise and fall of his chest betrayed that he was even still alive.   
  
"Rogue! Look out!"   
  
She whirled, only to be confronted by a shimmering face that gleamed with an incandescence so bright that she had to look away again. Shielding her eyes, Rogue was aware of a tickling sensation around her ankles, and glanced down to see flickering green flames encircling her feet in a small circle.   
  
Rogue wasn't really one for expletives, but even she had her limits.   
  
_Aw, *crap*!_   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
******************* 


	28. Life

A/N ~ Reason for lateness of update = Scribbler's computer went boom. Literally. It blew up on Sunday evening, and I have a nice big scorch mark on the study wall to prove it. Until it's fixed, I'm working from the University computer lab, which means I only get Internet access two days a week. Narf. In other news, twenty-one frikkin' reviews for one frikkin' chapter?! *Breaks out party streamers* WOOT!  
  
The Phantom; You reading symbolism very good, friend Phantom. Ariel it was. Well done. And you like Alvin? Just goes to show you, a character doesn't have to possess great big sparkly superpowers to gain a fan or two.   
  
ChaosCat; I revel in my evilness, mwahahahahahaaaa!  
  
Ice Princess; The oil bit you remember is from a conversation Our Heroes had whilst trying to puzzle out their prophecies a while back. Someone (I forget who - I'm not infallible) mentioned that *black* gold is oil, but none of them could see any connection to Pietro's prophecy and the *blue* gold contained therein. See me stalk you with my Cliffhangers of Doom!  
  
Amarth Obstreperous; Of *Doom*, I say!  
  
Ricter; Lady of Sky is supposed to be Ororo, because she has authority over the skies. Thanks for the compliments a propos Wanda vs. Pietro. I was indeed quite proud of this little lot regarding them, since I'd never actually written Wanda in any great length or depth before this. For more Wanda and Pietro goodness courtesy of the NutBoard, check out our other finished epic 'Futures Tense' at http://wofriends.tripod.com/maftense1.htm. *Plugplugplugplugplug*. Sorry, but I'm just so psyched at the moment because some fanart I requested for that fic came through. Check it out here at http://www.internutter.org/bb/viewtopic.php?t=346   
  
UnknownSource; 'After all would you willing run towards the psychopath throwing hexbolts wildly?' Every time I read new reviews, a line or two pop out at me. This one made me choke on my drink. ^_^ And all your questions will be answered in this chapter, hopefully.  
  
Diabolus in Musica; New reviewer! *Punches the air* We snagged another one, guys... uh, I mean, welcome aboard.   
  
Hootild; Bitter chocolate is nice. Bitter Hootild is not so nice. *Edges away*  
  
Anime-catdagon; *Takes chainsaw to writer's block* Sure I'll help you, just mail me if and when you need anything. I beta for a couple of other people, too. Just remember what I said about my computer going kablooey when waiting for a reply. *Trundles off mumbling* Wow, someone actually wants me to help them with fiction...  
  
Remedy=Chill; And so we come to our second line-that-popped-out-at-me, though I'm not sure anyone else would see the humour in the image my brain conjured up when reading 'Another golden nugget my friends. But instead of being wrested from the earth you drop them from a clear and empty sky.' I suppose it depends whether 'golden nugget' is the same vernacular to you as it is to me... Anyway, babbling aside, you really like this fic? I'm touched, truly I am, R=C. That's probably one of the nicest compliments I've ever received, bar none.  
  
Ambrosia; I'm not sure whether to be impressed or frightened by your precognitive skills. You've predicted a couple of future plot points already, and it's quite odd reading them back like that. Gumnut Babies? Um, I don't think they ever made it to Britain, so I can't comment. Blessid Union of Souls! I only own one song of theirs, but it's one of my favourites. 'If Only Tears Could Bring You Back', as I recall. Also, I'm going to answer your questions for 'Second Best' here, as well, in the hope that people will go read and review it as a result. (I've given up on being discreet - go forth and read it!) Pertaining to the use of 'one' instead of 'you', I use it because that's honestly how I speak in real life sometimes. I have no idea why, but in more formal situations it pops out, like 'y'all' does for some people. A copse is a small clump of trees. I get the feeling the Institute is a place where everything has a kind of order, even if it's not immediately identifiable. The sugar rush thing wasn't a reflection of Kurt's grammatical proficiency, just my crappy typing skills at work. Apologies for that one, it slipped through the net. The episode you're thinking of with the stolen X-Jet is 'Joyride' from Season Two, and that was *Jubilee* in back, not Amara. Amara was the one who got adopted into the Bayville Sirens. I'll settle that the blonde delinquent is female, and leave you to work the rest out from there.   
  
Kryz; *Grunts as pulls fic up by roots* It's... coming... little by... little... Ah! Here we go, new chapter all done. ^_^  
  
AerinBrown; There's quite a few more twists and turns before this monster rolls over, I can assure you. ;)  
  
Yma; You deserved it. Altogether now... na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na *Bat*-*man*!  
  
Morgannia; Thanks. The review is appreciated.  
  
S. S. Goten; Is that a DBZ pseudonym, or am I seeing things? ;) Welcome onto the bus.  
  
Krazy Xanadu; That's a real statement, Krazy. It's wonderful this fic has made such an impression on you.   
  
DemonRogue13; I'll pass the good wishes and compliments along. Thanks, darlin'.   
  
Risa; My fingers hurt. But we're at the last review. And what a review. I'm assuming the 'god writing' is a typo, but it's a nice typo all the same. I can't really answer many of your questions since it would spoil the upcoming arc, but I can say that Lady of Sky isn't Mystique. She's the Lady Mobius.   
  
*******************  
  
Twenty-eighth Fragment ~ Life  
  
*******************  
  
Daisy's eyes were wide, and she hugged her blanket to her. "Logan," she whimpered, crawling forwards to the edge of her seat, "what's going on?"   
  
The elder mutant finished arranging Raven across the back seat of the bus and leaned back, balancing on one knee. "Nuthin' good, darlin'."   
  
Across from him, he could see Alvin doing likewise with the Lance's body, save for the fact that the preacher was making a point to keep the earth-shaker's face covered. A glance towards Kitty, however, told Logan that the action wasn't really necessary if it was being completed for her benefit.   
  
Kitty sat, the picture of wretchedness with her knees drawn up to her chest and arms wrapped round, rocking gently back and forth with silent tracks down her cheeks. Her face was pale, and with his better-than-average vision Logan could see through her glasses that her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Apparently, blindness hadn't affected her ability to grieve that way, and some dim part of his brain told him that it was probably better she had such an outlet rather than being forced to keep everything bottled up inside.   
  
Hope lay in the safety seat next to her, grizzling softly, but Kitty either didn't notice or didn't care. Given her previous behaviour with her child, Logan was more inclined to favour the former option. He briefly considered going to tend Hope himself, but was halted by a small hand tugging insistently on his left arm.   
  
"No, I meant out there," Daisy said, pointing out of the window.   
  
Logan looked up. Instantly, he was on his feet and bounding out of the door. Daisy squeaked as her grip on his arm was torn loose, and was only saved from toppling to the floor by Alvin.   
  
The two of them stared, as Logan egressed in such haste that when he caught and ripped his shirt on a piece of protruding metal, he didn't even pause.   
  
Daisy quivered and looked up. "Mr. Alvin, what's happening?" Then, in a very small voice, she added, "I'm scared."   
  
Alvin just bit his lip and allowed her to snuffle into his robe. A little piece of him was glad for the company in this dark hour after the cold-shoulder he'd been shown by other members of their group. The events playing out on the bridge were only just beginning to sink in, and he found himself hugging Daisy back as if he were a child himself, lost in this sea of anger and pain.   
  
"It'll be all right, little one," he whispered, stroking her feathers.   
  
"It will?"   
  
"Yes." He nodded. "It has to be."   
  
*******************  
  
Rogue was all set to be torn to shreds, and instinctively turned herself as far to the side as the licking flames would allow, using her own body as a shield for Robyn. The fire wasn't especially large, but since Wanda was obviously the one controlling it, Rogue was under no misapprehension that the maddened girl could also cause it to flare up at whim.   
  
The heat around her ankles increased briefly, and Rogue braced herself for the final blow.   
  
So it was a complete surprise when it didn't come. Even more so when the fire abruptly died, leaving nothing more than a rough circle of black.   
  
Rogue waited a few seconds. Then she lifted her head.   
  
Wanda's expression was something to behold. She looked confused, and her face showed in equal parts the traces of recognition, anger, and overwhelming sadness. As Rogue watched, the light behind her eyes dimmed, revealing vaguely glowing green irises framed by long black lashes untouched by the heat. The fire in them sputtered momentarily, divulging irises as blue as Pietro's.  
  
Rogue blinked. There was something... familiar about that face. The angular cheekbones and cusping flesh stretched across struck a chord deep within her, yet somehow remained just out if reach of questing mental fingers.   
  
The once-Goth inwardly searched, sorting through memories of faces in the hope that one of them would explain this curious feeling of... of fellowship blossoming somewhere in the region of her chest. Almost... camaraderie? But how could... she'd never met Wanda before in her life. Certainly, an all-powerful mutant with a bad temper wasn't someone you forgot in a hurry. Yet the odd feeling stayed at bay, taunting her and then slipping away again.   
  
Wanda held her gaze, neither one of them looking away. It was as if a strand of consciousness existed between them; not as intimate as the twin-bond, but approaching it. One could almost see a wire leading from one girl to the other, wrapping around each of them and drawing them close. It transcended the anger Wanda felt, and Rogue's fear, numbing them both as they riffled through their memories; like they'd undergone some ordeal together, and were only just remembering the part the other played in it.   
  
Rogue realised with a shock that her lips were moving soundlessly, forming words her voice didn't accompany.   
  
_Who are you?_   
  
Unbidden, Wanda reached out, but before her hand even touched Rogue's cheek there was a burst of blinding colour.   
  
Running. She was running. Running like her life depended on it - which it would, if they caught her. She couldn't let them catch her - them. Not now. Not when they was so close to getting out. To being free.   
  
Her bare feet thwacked the ground, which was uneven and stony. She'd already reached the outside world. She would *not* let them take her back - them back. Never. She'd waited too long and endured too much to have it snatched away now.   
  
Dark sky stretched above her, speckled with stars. It'd been so long since she'd seen the sky - starry or otherwise. She saw her companion stumble, and marvelled that there was a stone to stumble over instead of the smooth flat surfaces of the lab. Metal was no substitute for proper earth, and she resisted the urge to fall to her knees and kiss it simply for being there.   
  
She reached and grabbed, dragging the girl back up and forcing her on. A short glimpse of face. Scars like hers, but different. Strange hair. White stripe. She was running too. Running together. As one. Free together. Free as one.   
  
Torchlight flared behind them, and the monotonous wailing of the siren reached a new pitch. But she didn't care. They wouldn't take her back now. Not now she was free. Not now they were free.   
  
Free.   
  
Freedom.   
  
She was out. They were out. Away from the needles and shocks and knives. Away from the scalpels and collars and chains. She was a person again. They were people again, escaping together. Pelting side by side under the ever-indifferent moon. Liberated. Released.   
  
Free!   
  
*Free*!   
  
Wanda yanked back, gasping and shaking her hand like she'd been burned. Rogue simply stood, heaving in lungfuls of air as several memories clicked back into place.   
  
Wanda spoke; softly, almost gently. "Specimen 5930?" Her tone was hesitant, but brightened when Rogue nodded, slowly.   
  
"7... 541," Rogue replied, remembering the number given to her cell-mate when they'd been denied names and forced to exist under the façade of codes as identities.   
  
They gazed at each other for a moment, lost in memories they'd stored away in the nooks and crannies of their minds, or else been denied through the actions and presence of others. Audrey was a constant sticking point, but Rogue barely thought of her as she marvelled over not knowing this girl's name, despite the fact that they'd escaped the facility together. It was ironic in a way, but also deeply, deeply saddening in a manner she couldn't quite fathom.   
  
The cry startled them both.   
  
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"   
  
Logan fell from the air, a living, breathing bullet tipped with adamantium claws. His face was a savage mask, and his yell was as close to a feral warcry as he'd ever unleashed.   
  
Wanda shot backwards, throwing up her hands. At once there was a brilliant shaft of light that caught Logan directly in his chest, punching a hole through and sending him reeling through the air to land not twelve feet from Kurt's inert form.   
  
Rogue found her tongue at last. "NO!" she screamed, and automatically lunged for Wanda's hands, trying to yank them away.   
  
For a moment, Wanda's expression switched to one of fear, and then supreme concentration, as she visibly willed her power back into her. However, she either wasn't quick enough, or wasn't strong enough to do so, and though it didn't cause any lasting injury, the remnants threw Rogue back, dislodging Robyn from her arms as she rolled over and over in the blackened debris.   
  
Another scream pierced the air.   
  
Looking up, Rogue could see that Wanda was holding her head again, shaking it from side to side. Around her, her power fizzled and bubbled, ostensibly angry at being restrained. It wove into the air, grasping at emptiness as it sought to escape the confines of her body, all but tearing her apart in the process.   
  
Presently, words became distinguishable amongst the anguished cries.   
  
"No! No more! I don't want to hurt anymore! No more death! No more killing! No more of *this*! I... I.... YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!"   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro fumbled and dropped forwards, bracing himself against the ground with one hand. His chest still heaved, and his broken nose was beginning to ache painfully. Blood dripped and slithered into his eyes and he blinked, shaking away small droplets in an effort to see what was going on.   
  
Clasped to his chest, the water-child still snuffled desolately, his entire body rigid with panic and fatigue. A few sots of red flicked onto him, and, without any real thought to what he was doing, Pietro reached up and brushed them away again, leaving trails of pink across his dry scales.   
  
"Sorry kid," Pietro burbled. "Didn't mean to dirty you up none, I - uungh." Removing his hand from the ground proved to be a silly action, for it allowed the rest of him to sway, and his head very nearly pitched to the floor as his mind suddenly swam. There was a throbbing constantly going in his ears, and various aches and pains he'd been able to ignore whilst on the move now made themselves known about his person very clearly.   
  
Lifting his face from the speedster's shoulder, the scaly kid peered with morbid curiosity. "You don't look so good," he informed him in a tiny voice.   
  
Pietro allowed himself a small, incongruous smirk. "Thanks for the morale boost, kid. 'Preciate it."   
  
The kid just kept up the permanently wary look, though the corners of his mouth twitched, and Pietro felt him unstiffen ever-so-slightly in his arms. However, he froze again like a statue as a heart-rending scream abruptly gashed the air wide open.   
  
Neither of them could fully understand what was going on at first. The sight of Wanda once again seizing her skull confused them both, since mere moments ago she'd seemed to have a firm hold on her powers. In fact, it wasn't until Pietro received another jab of instructive empathy that he truly appreciated what was going on.   
  
"She can't control it," he whispered, brushing a lock of reddened hair from his eyes to see better.   
  
"Huh?" said the kid, turning inquiring eyes upon him.   
  
"Her powers, they're too much for her. She never... never learned proper control, only bits and pieces. Only how to keep them contained. Now they're out, and she can't stop them. It's... It's killing her." His voice rose to a strangled whisper, and he struggled to his feet, only to sink down again.   
  
The kid switched his gaze between Wanda and his odd redeemer several times, then bit his lip. "Why do you care?" he asked diffidently. "She tried to kill you. She wanted you dead."   
  
"She's my sister," Pietro replied, not taking his eyes from her convulsing body. "And it's partly my fault that she's like this." His breath caught in his throat, and a thousand and one emotions ghosted over his face.   
  
The kid looked at the two of them once more, spent a second considering something, and then struggled to free himself from Pietro's hold. The speedster joggled from his reverie as the scaly bundle wriggled free and stood, wobbling, on the ruined tarmac. For a moment he blanched, and looked as if he was going to faint, but then he schooled his face into a firm mask and said simply, "Go to her," with as much authority as he could muster.   
  
"Kid - " Pietro began, but was stopped.   
  
"Just... go to her. She needs you. She needs someone."   
  
This time it was Pietro's turn to chew his bottom lip, and he vacillated just a microsecond more before exerting a fresh burst of strength to push himself to his feet and take his first, tottery step. Knees bowing slightly, he swivelled back to face the small child.   
  
"Hey kid, just in case I don't make it, what's your name? It's not really 'Water Baby', is it?"   
  
"I, uh - Ariel. My name's Ariel."   
  
"Cute. I'm Pietro." And then he was gone, not quite speeding, but doing his darnedest to reach the mayhem as fast as he could.   
  
Ariel watched him go before at last permitting himself the luxury of sitting down again. His backside hit the floor with a solid thump, but the twinge barely registered as he automatically drew spilled moisture from the wet ground in to cool his rattling gills. His eyes, on the other hand, remained fixed on the retreating not-quite-blonde figure, and the little water sprite, though not particularly religious, suddenly sent up a prayer to whatever god or deity chose to listen to him.   
  
"Please let this turn out all right. Please..."   
  
*******************  
  
It was all Pietro could do to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, but do it he did, sheer determination driving him onwards where his flagging strength could not. He was aware of how walking, much less running, should be a smooth experience, not reduced to counting individual steps and the strain they cost him, as he was doing now. Every single muscle smarted and complained, but he told them to shut up and kept progressing gamely onwards despite their painful verbosity.   
  
When he stood not a few yards from his sister, he stopped. His throat was scratchy and felt drier than a desert, but he managed to push out a few words. "Wanda, please, let me help you."   
  
She didn't respond, and he wondered whether she'd heard him at all. He was all ready to call up again, when a sudden movement in his peripheral vision made him pause and turn his head.   
  
Rogue had somehow gotten to her feet, and was now pottering around some distance away. Astonishingly, she was unhurt apart from a few cuts and bruises, and he saw her bend down at Kurt's side before looking up and yelling something. Something that gave a desperate edge to her voice. Something important. A name.   
  
"Robyn!"   
  
Robyn?   
  
Pietro blinked. But Robyn was safe on the bus wasn't she? She was - no, wait, Rogue had been carrying her. That's right. And Rogue had left the bus with a clutch of blankets in her arms that could only have been Robyn. He remembered seeing that.   
  
But... but if Rogue never went back to the bus, and had no such bundle now, then where was...?  
  
Cold dread invaded his stomach, and for a moment Pietro forgot about everything; his injuries, the pain jolting through his twin-bond, the dreadful situation they were in - everything! It all paled in comparison to knowing where the sick little cat-girl was. She was still too weak to get herself out of immediate danger, and he was in doubt as to what would happen if Wanda's powers continued to run rampant without Robyn's ability to remove herself from harm.   
  
He stumbled forwards, passing beneath the spot where Wanda hung like a broken marionette and calling urgently. "Robyn! Robyn, where are you?"   
  
There was no answer, and he could've kicked himself. Of course she wouldn't reply. Poor Robyn had barely had enough strength to do anything but sleep since she fell ill. Even after Daisy brought the little healer, Robyn's energy was virtually nothing. There was no way she could shout to him, no matter how important doing so might be. He wondered whether she was even conscious.   
  
Desperately, Pietro scanned the ground for a telltale collection of swaddling. Robyn was a small girl, but even so she shouldn't be especially difficult to spot in this smashed wasteland. He hoped.   
  
He crested a mound of shattered asphalt and stood, wobbling and calling endlessly. For all the good it did him. He could hear Wanda still screaming behind him, and he was torn between the separate plights of his two sisters.   
  
_I've done it again. I've fucking done it *again*!_   
  
It appeared that no matter what he did, he would never make the cut in brotherhood. Never. He was a terrible sibling, and there seemed to be no getting away from the fact. Twice now, he'd failed a sister, and just when he had the potential chance to set things right with one, he went and screwed up with the other. He was hopeless. Why did the world keep on giving him siblings, when all he did was let them down? Wanda, Robyn, even the extended adoptive family he'd gained on this god-forsaken trip. He'd let them all down - perhaps even killed them - and all because he was a bad brother.   
  
A mantra started up inside his head, and even though he tried to fight it back down, it echoed inside his skull.   
  
_Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad -_   
  
Wait!   
  
What was that? Over there. Was that... yes! Yes, it was! He could see the corner of a tattered old blanket peeking out from behind a mound of torn up road, and recognised it instantly.   
  
Nearly falling over in his haste, Pietro descended and started hurrying to the spot where, no doubt, Robyn lay. He prayed she was all right, and barely took any notice when his foot caught a piece of upturned earth, or when his chest suddenly began to twinge tellingly, or when another agonized screech punched a hole through the air above his head.   
  
He did, however, notice when an sweep of green light flew violently past, very nearly clipping his ear. He also noticed when said light hit a bizarrely parked car with no roof at the side of the road, that had somehow managed to stay put when the wall of water fell. He noticed, too, when the car exploded, throwing him backwards and engulfing the area of bridge around it in a mixture of aggressive yellow and green flames.   
  
The area of bridge where Robyn was.   
  
"ROBYN!"   
  
He was on his feet before he truly knew what he was doing, and dredging up the very last bit of energy stored deep inside him. His legs started to move, slowly at first, then building up pace, faster and faster, until he reached the edge of the blaze. The heat was severe, and he felt his eyebrows begin to singe off from the ash. The blood caking most of his face and hair dried on the move, and began to crackle and flake away as billows of hot air touched his skin.   
  
Somewhere to his left he could hear Rogue shouting for him to stop, but there was no way he could do that now. He was too far-gone, caught up in his own speed and momentum. A momentum that consequently allowed him to burst through the wall of fire without sustaining too much damage.   
  
What happened next was pure and utter instinct on Pietro's part. The fire was so brutal that there was little time for sentient thought other than _Must find Robyn,_ and his limbs moved seemingly of their own will to do just that.   
  
The speedster scoured the rapidly burning ground until he saw the identifiable upturning of tarmac and bounded over. He could already feel his clothing start to smoke, even though he moved too fast for the fire to actually catch hold of him. A moving target was always harder to burn, and it wasn't until he paused that it got its chance to bite.   
  
Sure enough, the bundle of blankets were there, and he hastily lifted them up, ignoring the pain the burning fabric incurred as he removed the unconscious little girl from it and held her tightly to his chest. Kicking the burning material aside, he picked a random direction, huddled her close, and moved off.   
  
Pain like that of a severe lashing suddenly slashed across his shoulders as a tongue of fire finally licked his back, and he repressed the urge to scream. He could feel the edges of his shirt fall away as a charred hole opened up, lightly brushing the skin they'd exposed to the greedy conflagration. Tears welled unbidden in the corners of his eyes, but hissed away into steam before they could fall.   
  
Clenching his jaw and using himself as a shield, Pietro hunched over Robyn's tiny form and barrelled forwards. He didn't know what direction he was going in, and could only trust to luck that he came out on the bridge and not so close to the smashed rail that he fell over it.   
  
It was then that Fortune finally decided to smile over him. Whatever her reasons for abandoning the speedster and his party before, now she returned to beam down upon him, allowing him to exit the inferno onto a relatively unscathed patch of road where few obstacles stood in the way of his pounding feet.   
  
Pietro powered out of the hungry blaze faster than a freight train, feet hitting the unburned road with a slight jar and revelling in the cooler air. Had his velocity not been quite so much he might have drunk in a breath to soothe his scorched lungs. As it was, had he tried to open his mouth he probably would've dislocated his jaw.   
  
He sped along for several feet, before skidding to a halt in a bout of dust and minor debris. Then, last ebb of strength finally gone, he crumpled to his knees, and then his side, dimly aware of the small flames edging over his hip and smouldering in his hair. He felt empty, completely drained, and yet... somehow satisfied, and hung possessively on to Robyn's petite form.   
  
"Not a bad brother... I'm... not..."   
  
*******************  
  
Rogue looked on, jaw very nearly reaching sea level. She watched helplessly as Pietro dove into the flames, and then again as he ran back out and collapsed on the floor, hugging what could only have been Robyn. She saw the trail of smoke he left behind him and the flames creeping up his burning clothes. She saw his reddened skin, and the faint waft of roasting meat reached her nostrils.   
  
And she screamed for him.   
  
"PIETRO!"   
  
Ignoring her own minor discomfort, she stumbled over, yanking off the coat Kurt had salvaged for her to beat out the greenish teeth eating him. Pietro groaned when the fabric touched, and Rogue instantly dropped to her knees, grabbing his shoulders roughly.   
  
"Pietro! Pietro, you idiot! Come on, say something! *Pietro*!"   
  
For a second there was no response, and she shook him again. Briefly, his eyelids flickered, and she took that as a good sign, shaking him harder. Perhaps she wasn't meant to jostle him quite so much if he was hurt, but she knew enough about first aid that he had to stay awake. He *had* to.   
  
"Pietro! Pietro, don't you dare pass out on me. Don't you *dare*!"   
  
He mumbled, and she leaned closer, thinking he was trying to tell her something.   
  
" 'M... good ... good brother... bro..."   
  
"Sure you are, Speedy. But you ain't gonna be no good to nobody if you pass out. Come on, snap out of it. *Please*!"   
  
Instead of answering, he let out a small sigh, and she felt his body start to go limp beneath her fingers.   
  
_Oh no you don't!_   
  
Impulsively, she drew back her hand and slapped him across his cheek. Hard.   
  
One would think that after the beating he'd taken, one more smack wouldn't mean anything. Apparently, though, Pietro's nerve endings were still functioning enough to register the short, sharp burst of pain, and his eyes snapped open. As did his mouth.   
  
"*Fuck*! What was *that* for, Rogue?"   
  
"You absolute *cretin*, Pietro!" she grated, and then surprised them both by enveloping him in a grateful hug, only leaving off when her gloved hands skimmed the blistered patch on his back. Rocking back on her heels, Rogue sniffed and wiped hurriedly at her eyes.   
  
"Don't you *ever* do anything like that again. You hear me? You could've - "   
  
"Died?" He scrunched up his face, sitting jerkily up with more than a little help. "Yeah, I know. But I couldn't... I... Rogue, I've screwed up so many times. I couldn't let Robyn die. I just... She's not my sister by blood, but all of us - we're the closest she's got to proper family. I... I..."   
  
Rogue stroked a hand through Robyn's matted hair and nodded. "I know," she said simply. Then softer, "I know."   
  
Pietro looked down at the furry child and did likewise. It was as if, for a moment, nothing else in the world existed. This tiny spot in the middle of a ruined bridge was the entire universe, and he focussed on the moment with as much intensity as when he was using his powers.   
  
"I just want to be a good brother," he whispered, more to himself than anything else.   
  
Rogue looked up, but he avoided her eyes, shameful of the fact that he should long for something that should, by rights, be innate. She reached out and touched his chin, trying not to hurt the ugly blisters and welts and tipping his face toward her.   
  
"If you really want it, then that's half the battle fought, ain't it?"  
  
*******************  
  
_... ain't it?_   
  
If.   
  
You.   
  
Really.   
  
_If you really..._   
  
Wanda heard the words as if in a dream. They echoed inside her head, listened to by her twin and sent through their intrinsic link until she was all but convinced it was she sitting there on the ground, not up here being thrown to the winds by her own rampant powers.   
  
Slowly, and with great effort, she opened her eyes.   
  
Her world was green, and filled with light that crackled and burned with all the brilliance of a thousand stars. She could feel each jolt through her body, singeing her nerves and sending her blood singing with agony. But her tears had run dry, and her cries fallen silent. She was numb - beyond feeling. All she was truly aware of was the strange, ethereal voice coming from... somewhere.   
  
_...want it..._   
  
Want what? What was she supposed to want?   
  
Revenge?   
  
Maybe.   
  
She'd wanted revenge for so long. Years. A whole lifetime. So long.   
  
Yet, now she'd tasted it, the dish was strangely bitter on her tongue. Acrid. Caustic.   
  
Was that how it was supposed to feel?   
  
Somehow she'd thought that, since others seemed to enjoy giving her so much pain, it might be enjoyable to give some out herself for once. To see how it felt being on the other side of the divide.   
  
Payback.   
  
Evening the odds.   
  
Revenge.   
  
But it wasn't like that. Not at all.   
  
Vengeance had only made her feel emptier, like there was a void in her heart growing steadily wider every time she sought to close it. She'd thought tracking down Pietro and making him suffer would alleviate her misery, but it hadn't. Not one bit. She felt even more miserable now than she had before, and something told her that it wasn't just because she was hurting physically. This feeling went deeper. Much deeper. Right to her soul - if she even had one.   
  
Do murderers have souls?   
  
_...then that's half the battle fought..._   
  
Half a battle? She'd fought more than that today. She'd killed people. Taken them away from those they loved and who loved them.   
  
Why?   
  
Because she wanted them to feel just as lonely as she did?   
  
But she didn't even know them. They were strangers.   
  
The doctors had been strangers too, but that hadn't stopped them hurting her. She'd been so alone, so desperately lonely. Nobody had ever bothered themselves about her. Never.   
  
Had they?   
  
Fuzziness clouded her mind. She couldn't remember. God help her, she couldn't remember!   
  
_...ain't it?_   
  
What? *What*? Why was she doing this? Why had she come here? She couldn't remember anything but pain. There was more to her than that, surely? There had to be. People weren't only made up of hurting. Before the pain, a long time ago, she'd felt something else. Something... different.   
  
Why couldn't she remember it? *Why*?   
  
*WHY*?   
  
A face. Pale skin, tired hair, eyes like blue chips of ice. Talking. To her? No. To another. Different link this time. That girl. She was projecting this. But how...?   
  
_ I just want to be a good brother._   
  
Pietro.   
  
Brother.   
  
Family.   
  
Wanda suddenly realised what she'd been missing. That emptiness inside her could have been healed, but not the way she'd chosen to do it. She'd chosen the path of hatred and violence, and probably given up her own sanity and soul because of it.   
  
She'd been lonely.   
  
But so had he.   
  
He'd talked to the dead because he was so lonely.  
  
"P... Piet... tro."   
  
Her mouth hurt, and she felt the corners of her lips crack, they were so dry. Something ran down the side of her chin from the split. Her head hurt, her mind ached, her soul felt crushed.   
  
Yet at the same time... free.   
  
The moment she'd taken that first step along this road, she'd signed her own future to dust. There was no turning back. Even if she could stop what was happening to her body, her spirit was too tarnished, now.   
  
But perhaps by preventing herself from doing any more damage, from causing any more hurt, she could repent?   
  
Maybe.   
  
At least a little.   
  
If she could just find enough inside her to do this one thing, then it would be better. All she had to do was try; try as hard as she could. She needed to do this. She needed to...   
  
_ If you really want it, then that's half the battle fought, ain't it?_   
  
"Yes," she whispered. "I guess it is."   
  
*******************  
  
Logan grunted as he got to his feet. Jeez, Speedy's sister could sure pack a wallop. Glancing down, he was graced with the sight of a rapidly closing hole in the middle of his chest. It hurt like hell, and he was sure that, even after he'd finished regrowing everything that needed regrowing, he'd ache for a month of Sundays to come. Had it been anybody else she'd hit, then undoubtedly they would've been dead right about now. Probably with half their insides splashed across the pavement. He, on the other hand, could get away with ripped clothing and a headache.   
  
_Ah, the many benefits of healing factor._   
  
Pulling himself upright, he looked down at the scene still playing out on the bridge. From what he could tell, Wanda's blast had actually managed to knock him out for a few minutes, because he sure as hell couldn't remember Rogue and Pietro huddled together with... was that *Robyn* in the kid's arms? Nor could he remember a flaming car wreck burning merrily at the side of the street.   
  
A flash of movement just beyond the two teenagers suddenly caught his eye, and his mouth set into an even grimmer line than before as he saw what it was.   
  
"Look out!"   
  
Since they were the words he'd been intending to say himself, hearing them come from someone else's lips was slightly disconcerting, and he paused momentarily to see who'd shouted.   
  
A small, golden child was on his hands and knees, yelling at the top of his lungs. Even from here, Logan could see the desperate look in his eyes, and so lent his own voice as well.   
  
"Speedy! Stripes! Book it! She's coming back!"   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro looked up, instinctively bringing Robyn closer. Rogue did the same, laying a protective hand on the little girl's head as she stared up into Wanda's face.   
  
Wanda's... smiling face.   
  
Wanda was smiling?   
  
And it wasn't the cruel, malicious smile she favoured either. This was a warm upturning of the lips, tinged with a curious melancholy that resounded in her eyes like a knell. She looked happy, yet simultaneously sombre. A discordant mix that made the both of them stop and stare, if only to gawp at the distinct lack of anger in her features.   
  
She was still surrounded by the pulsing green light, and every now and then would flinch from being at the heart of it. Yet her face retained an aura of calm, and she smiled down at them with something approaching beatification.   
  
"Pietro," she said, voice not really above a murmur but audible nonetheless. How it was possible escaped them, as they listened to her strangely sorrowful words. It was as if every scrap of anger had been cleansed away quite suddenly, and both of them blanched at the abrupt change.   
  
Pietro cleared his throat. "Wanda, please... I wanna help you. You gotta believe me, I - "   
  
Wanda held up a hand, effectively silencing him. "I didn't see it before," she said softly. "I guess I was too blinded by hate. Part of me didn't want to believe you. I was too stuck on making you pay for what happened." She shook her head and sighed. "I'm sorry Pietro. I'm sorry for... well, everything."   
  
A small block of icy dread began to manifest in the pit of Pietro's stomach, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "What're you saying?" Why did she sound so resigned? Regretful, almost. He wanted to help her. Was that so bad?   
  
Slowly, Wanda levitated higher into the air, moving sideways but keeping her eyes trained on her brother's face. Soon she hovered above the rail of the bridge, still smiling, and said in a small voice, "I wish things could've turned out differently. I remember before... before all of this." She waved a hand in the air, encompassing everything around them into the gesture. "I remember you once telling me to hold onto the present, and stop worrying about the future so much. You said each moment was precious. A gift. You were right. They are. I just wish we'd had more of them."   
  
Pietro frowned. What she said sounded so familiar, and he wracked his brains trying to figure out where he'd heard something like that before.   
  
All at once it came to him. Alvin's voice was like a breeze, flitting airily about his mind.   
  
**Lady Luck meets Brother Time, precious moment ends in sorrow.**   
  
"Wanda, *no*!" The words ripped from his throat unbidden, and Rogue whipped around to stare at him.   
  
Still smiling, supreme concentration ghosted over Wanda's face for a moment, as she yanked the force that had been holding her up back into her body.   
  
And plummeted like a stone to the water far below.   
  
"No!" Pietro screamed, scrabbling to his feet. "NO! NO! *NO*!"   
  
A loud splash was heard, even as he hobbled to the side, and Rogue jumped up to grab his arm and pull him back.   
  
"Getoffme!" he spat, pushing her away. "Wanda! WANDA!"   
  
"Pietro," Rogue said, gripping him again like an iron band. "Stop. Don't look, please."   
  
"She might still be okay! She might - "   
  
"Pietro -" There was something in her eye. It made the world blurry. "Nobody could've survived a fall like that."   
  
"But she's my *sister*!"   
  
"That's why you can't. You don't wanna see her... like that."   
  
He stared at her for a moment, frozen in stone. There was a jolt inside his chest, like a cord snapping. Then his barriers crashed around him, and he broke down, tears spilling down his cheeks and sinking to his knees. Reflexively, his arms tightened around Robyn, and Rogue followed him down, allowing him to sob into her shoulder.   
  
"Why?" he asked, breath hitching. "I was going to... to help her..."   
  
"You couldn't, Speedy," said Rogue, holding back her own tears. She hadn't known Wanda like him, but finding the girl she'd escaped with, only to lose her again so quickly... it still stung. "Nobody could. And she knew it."   
  
He cried harder, soaking the fabric of her shirt. Rogue looked up as a hand touched her other shoulder.   
  
"Come on," Logan said gruffly. "This ain't no place for us no more."   
  
Rogue nodded. "Just give him a minute, okay? He's been through a lot."   
  
"We all have, princess." Logan turned his face towards the waiting bus, and then at the small golden figure watching them not ten feet away. "We all have."   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
******************* 


	29. Glass Barriers

A/N ~ Everyone can blame my lateness on Shakespeare and essays thereon. Blaaaah...  
  
In other news - we passed the 200-review mark! (Homer Simpson moment) Woohoo!  
  
Nessie6; I wrote the whole bridge scene having never actually seen Evo-Wanda in action (such are the perils of English television). However, I knew her eyes were blue. They had just turned green here as a result of her power.  
  
UknownSource; Characterisation shall consume your soul, say I. Hmm, Yoda moment, am I having. I'll pass on the Get Well Soon to my computer.  
  
Krazy Xanadu; Glad you liked it, Krazy. ^__^  
  
ChaosCat; 'You folks really know how to keep us on our toes, don't you?' Sure we do. Thumbscrews, a doorframe, and some adamantium-strength wire. ;) On the subject of chapters left, by my count there are about ten, including the two epilogues and a freebie. But don't quote me on that, I haven't actually counted them up. It's just a rough estimation. 'Oh, are you the same Scribbler that occasionally enters Lesli's fanart contest?' I am that merry wanderer of the night... I enter periodically, when the art bug nibbles my toes. You know, it's rather odd for something like that to be picked up here. Cross-fandom-ness!  
  
Hootild; *Hides from Hootild's sister* Please don't hurt me? It was all in the name of poetic license, I swear.  
  
Ice Princess; Regarding the 'blood caking face' phrase - occasionally I'm callous and strange. Points to anyone who knows where that line came from. And thank you for the fixed-computer sentiments. They're all appreciated.  
  
Remedy=Chill; I went to look at 'The Skin of the Snake'. It's good, if a little confusing at times. Makes me want to keep reading it, though. Compelling, that's the word.   
  
Ricter; Wanda's fate is expounded more in this, and further chapters. And that's all I'm going to say on the matter.  
  
Anime-Catdagon; Your penguins scare me...  
  
Amarth Obstreperous; 'More character death! O, shall ye ever cease thy butchery and mutilation of beloved characters?' Aaaargh, not more Shakespeare Speak, please! Mmf... too late. Nay, I shall not cease my twining of the ways, for our revels cannot end until she of portly size hath sung.  
  
Yma; Just so long as their keyboards don't spontaneously combust from the tears. No more exploding!computers, do we want.  
  
S. S. Goten; Glad you liked the Wanda scenes. When people like the stuff, it makes it all worthwhile.  
  
RedWyvern; 'AHH!! She's nuts, she's slightly sane, she's sane, she's dead? AHH!' Bwaaaahahahahaaa! The whole Wanda conundrum in a nutshell. I commend you. Ever though about auditioning for the Fifteen-Minute Shakespeare Company? Pretty much the only true New Recruit aside from Jamie is Rahne (Wolfsbane), but she has more emphasis coming up in upcoming chapters, so watch this space.  
  
Ambrosia; I see multiple AUs spawning in each of your reviews. Kudos. Yup, that's 'riffling'. Books only, no guns. Nope, no Gumnuts in England. We had the Poddington Peas and Penny Crayon instead. Yup, you got it about 'Second Best'. It was Tabby and Amara.   
  
Diabolus in Musica; I empathise with the whole drowning-in-academia thing. Too much workie makes an unhappy Scribbler. I reply to reviews because people took the time to write them, so the least I can do is tell them they're appreciated and answer any questions they may have. It's good manners, and proves that I *do* read and value every single one of them. Including yours. Thank you. ^_^  
  
AerinBrown; The bus is a regular kindergarten on wheels, now, isn't it?   
  
Risa; Grandpa Wolvie, ha *ha*! Seriously, though, human flesh smells like pork when it's burning. Your theories a propos Rogue are... not completely left field, but not completely right, either. They're partially correct, but you'll have to read on and find out what I really mean. Jamie time coming right up, as is something to dispel your horror flick theory. Sorry 'bout that.   
  
*******************  
  
Twenty-ninth Fragment ~ Glass Barriers  
  
*******************  
  
Alvin was performing triage on those wounded in the battle.   
  
Raven's rather unique physiology had baffled him somewhat, but he had tied a tourniquet a couple of inches above where her wrist used to be and the bleeding - at least, he assumed the purplish liquid was blood - had stopped.   
  
Kurt was the least harmed, but there was nothing he could do for a broken rib but forbid him from doing anything. Kurt, in any case, was too tired to do much except lie down.   
  
Robyn was badly burned, on top of the exhaustion, and Alvin was concerned for her. The thick cloth she had been wrapped in had protected her to a certain extent, but she was still in a bad way. He had sent Logan down to the river with her, to hold her in the cold water for a few minutes, and in the interim had made up a painkilling paste out of willow to apply to her burns when they came back.   
  
The little kid who had been holding up the wall was more or less the same as Kurt, less the broken rib. He had croaked for water, so Alvin had given him a small bottle of semi-clean liquid. The kid had opened it and placed it beside his head as he lay down, and a trickle had started leaking upwards out of the bottle and running around his neck. Alvin wasn't entirely sure what was happening with that, but it seemed to be taking care of itself, so he let it be.   
  
Pietro, however, was simply a mess.   
  
He was covered in contusions, scrapes and burns. Alvin was fairly sure that the cut on his head covered a fracture in his skull. Worst of all, it looked like the strain he had put on himself by running for so long and changing direction so often had snapped a tendon in his left ankle. They had found that out for themselves when the adrenaline in his system ebbed as Rogue supported him away from the edge of the bridge. His limp had grown more pronounced, until his leg finally gave way beneath him, and Rogue had to physically carry him back to the bus. Alvin had used up some metres his clean cloth to bandage his burns and cuts, and had improvised a sort-of splint to hold his foot still. He had given Pietro some of the painkiller, but most of it had promptly been vomited back out. In the boy's defence, it did taste fairly vile, but it was still a worrisome development.   
  
Rogue, Daisy and Kitty were standing behind Alvin as he crouched over his mortar and pestle, making a stronger painkiller out of the opiate plant that, hopefully, Pietro wouldn't reject. Kitty was holding Hope in her arms like the baby was the last thing in the world.   
  
"Are they gonna be okay?" Daisy asked for the umpteenth time.   
  
"Daisy, I don't... Yes, they'll be fine, I'm sure. They just need time."   
  
"Comin' through!" bellowed Logan, as he scrambled back up the steep incline, cradling Robyn with one arm.   
  
"Robyn!" Daisy cried, as she saw her sister and stumbled towards her. The lizard-girl's rapidly returning strength had been a surprise, given her earlier exhaustion; but amongst the myriad of other unpleasant surprises it was a welcome one. "How is she, Logan? Is she all right? C'n I talk to her?"   
  
"You can try, darlin'. She won't say much, though," Logan grunted, carrying Robyn over to their makeshift infirmary. He laid her down gently on the ground beside the scaly gold kid, then looked up and checked over the group. "Who's watchin' the bus?" he asked, beetling his eyebrows.   
  
"Uh," said Rogue, taking a quick tally of the group and seeing that all were accounted for, "No-one? Jamie went out to have a look around, make a perimeter so nobody could get past..."   
  
"Christ! Someone get back there, already!" Logan exclaimed. He got to his feet, looking alarmed.   
  
"You stay here, Logan," said Alvin authoritatively. Quite a feat, considering he looked like the word 'frazzled' had been coined for his personal use. "See that paste over there? Spread it on Robyn's burns and feed her some of it. Not too much, though - I can't make any more for a while."   
  
"You mean that stuff that looks like shit?"   
  
Alvin faltered; he looked confused. "I... never really thought about it before. I suppose it does, a little... but just do it, quickly please."   
  
"Someone needs to watch the bus," disagreed Logan, starting to stalk off.   
  
"I'll do it," said Kitty, voice quiet and manner subdued. "C'mon, Daisy, let's go back to the bus."   
  
Daisy started to protest against leaving her foster sister, but eventually took the blind girl's proffered hand and starting leading her back to the overlarge vehicle.   
  
Logan simply rubbed his eyes with the fingers and thumb of one hand in an exasperated gesture. "Half-Pint," he said, "No offence, but you lack one crucial thing that lets you watch our stuff."   
  
"I can do it for her," offered Daisy.   
  
"I'm sure you could, darlin', but one person's not enough."   
  
"I'll go with them," said Rogue. "It's not as if I can do anything for them, with the not touching thing." Her face was strange, almost aged, as it had been ever since the bridge. Alvin had tried to treat her, but Rogue had batted him off, and refused to speak of anything except how they were supposed to pick themselves up from here.  
  
Logan closed his eyes and stood very still. "Fine. Fine. Just go, make sure nobody's stealing anything. And fetch me a six-pack."   
  
"Uh... we don't have any beer."   
  
"Was bein' sarcastic, punkin. Go."   
  
Kitty and Rogue trailed off with their charges to the bus, and clambered inside, completely failing to encounter a nefarious burglar.   
  
In silence, Logan applied the paste to Robyn's wounds as he had been instructed. When he started working on her legs, he asked succinctly, "They be ready to move by mornin'?"   
  
"The *morning*?" Alvin repeated incredulously. "We'll be lucky if Pietro's ready to move by the end of the *month*!"   
  
"That ain't good enough, God Boy. We can't stay out here for long, just the few of us. We're easy pickins - 'specially seein' how much stuff we got in that bus there."   
  
Alvin sighed. "Blessed One Logan, there is no way that Pietro will be able to walk by himself for at *least* half a week. That's assuming the best and he hasn't done anything permanent to his ankle. In the worst case, he'll probably never be able to run properly again - if at all. Certainly, he will *not* be walk-worthy for another month, at least."   
  
"Huh. Can't you do nuthin'?"   
  
"Not with what I have. That Jamie... he comes from a settlement near here, doesn't he?"   
  
"Few miles on the other side of the river, yeah."   
  
"If we were to get there by the end of the week, and if they've preserved a hospital, I might be able to do something more long-term. Until then... nothing."   
  
"Dammit. What about the others?"   
  
"Apart from Robyn, they should all be more or less fine in the morning. I hope that Raven will be able to grow back her hand of her own accord, but I really don't know. Kurt should be all right, as long as he doesn't do much of anything and gets plenty to eat. The little boy Pietro rescued... well, he seems to be semi-aquatic, so I've no idea what to do, but it looks like he does. He doesn't seem to be in too bad a condition, though. Exhaustion, mostly."   
  
Logan sighed, allowing the weight of command back onto his shoulders in Kurt's absence. "Okay," he said grimly, "First things first. We need to put out the fire by that car. Don't want no more accidents than we can help. If Water Baby - "   
  
It seemed the gold kid was not as asleep as he seemed. "My name's Ariel," croaked the boy wearily, without getting up. "Water Baby was just what she... what the lady called me."  
  
Logan didn't even flinch. He was far past that point. "Whatever. Reckon ya got enough strength to put that fire out?"  
  
  
  
Ariel shifted upright and looked out at the burning by the car. It was an unnatural fire, burning where there was no fuel to do so. But it was fire all the same, and so should still be an enemy of water. He was so very tired, but even he could see the danger in letting it go on burning unchecked so near to a bus full of gas canisters. The giant wave of water from before had soaked the bridge, so he wouldn't have to summon anything more from the river, and it probably wouldn't take much to put it out...  
  
  
  
"All right," he said at last, and swallowed hard. "But after that, I need to rest. I'm so tired..."  
  
  
  
The gruff man's voice turned vaguely soft. "Just do the best ya can, kid." He looked at the other sick and injured. "It's all any of us can do."   
  
Ariel concentrated, trying to ignore the pounding of blood in his ears, the pain at the back of his head, and the aches in all of his muscles. The spread-thin surface water on the bridge suddenly flew up into the air, like rain going backwards, and shot towards the car. Within a matter of seconds the fire was out.   
  
"Nicely done, kid," congratulated Logan. "Now get some rest." He looked around. "Jamie?"  
  
The single boy jogged over, having reabsorbed any lingering clones. "Yup?"  
  
"Run over to the girl's car. Try to move it to check for fuel, an' see if there's anything inside we can use."  
  
Jamie nodded and did as bid.   
  
Suddenly there was a groan. Logan turned to see Kurt finally coming to.   
  
The elf shook his head, trying to clear the fuzz that had gathered there and recall what had happened. "Ach, mein Kopf," he murmured, and rubbed at his temples. "Was ist..." He gasped, memories hurrying back into his mind, and sat upright with the barest wince against his cracked rib.  
  
He took a quick head count, eyes darting over the line of wounded. He saw Pietro almost immediately, recognising the boy by his almost-white hair.   
  
"Gott im Himmel!"   
  
Pietro's once pale skin was now red and brown, a mixture of slight burns, bloodstains, numerous bruises, and dust marks. The handsome features that had once earned the glances of a thousand drooling girls - and almost as many boys - were now blackened, bloated and bloody. His nose was broken, one eye swollen. His lips were cracked and caked in gore. His clothes hung about him in tatters, barely enough to cover his decency, and they too were burned and gory. The skin on his back and chest was horribly burnt. Kurt could only pray that the paste spread across meant it would not get infected.   
  
The worst change though, was not one entirely physical.   
  
Another word for Quicksilver is Mercury. And one of the words that derive from Mercury is mercurial, meaning quick-witted, changeable, exciting, sprightly. This had been the essence of Pietro. He had always been fast, always been alive, vital, and un-catch-able. His eyes, those two cold slivers of ice, had echoed this. Sharp, playful, slightly cutting, but always dancing with their own inner vitality.   
  
The eyes that now peered from beneath half-lids were still blue, but it was the blue of cold steel. Blank, cold and almost dead. Even in deepest madness or despair, his eyes had never been so dim.   
  
"Pietro, man," said Kurt, "are you okay?"  
  
It was a stupid question, and Kurt berated himself for asking it. He certainly did not guess that he would get a reply - let alone the one so strange as Pietro gave.   
  
"Gingerbread."   
  
"Entschuldigung?"  
  
Logan looked up, surprised to see Pietro awake so soon. Kurt looked to him, but the other mutant had no explanation for the odd response other than a shrug of his shoulders.  
  
"I'm the Gingerbread man," Pietro said weakly, ignoring them both. "I ran and ran as fast as I could, and you couldn't catch me 'cause I'm the gingerbread man. But, see, in the story there's this river, and gingerbread can't go across 'cause it'd melt, and the wolf talked such sense at the time. It said locking up the river would be best. So the gingerbread man let him, and he went across the dry riverbed. But he left half of himself behind. And now it's caught up, and the one half tried to kill the other half - "  
  
  
  
"Pietro," whispered Kurt, fear filling his voice, "Pie-Pie, calm down, you're babbling."  
  
  
  
The speedster seemed not to have heard him. He continued talking in leaden tones, voice weighed down by a dreadful despair. "And the other half realised it couldn't run anymore, so it stopped. But the locked up river half, that half of the gingerbread had gone all green and mouldy, so it killed itself. Tore in two and dropped itself back into the water. And now there's only half a gingerbread man left. But half a gingerbread man can't run. Can't run with no legs. And when we were young I was Pie-Pie and she was Wa-Wa and we made a deal. We'd always have each other 'cause we'd swap half our names. So I could be Pie-Wa and she could be Wa-Pie and that made sense. But Wa-Wa's gone, and now I'm only half a Pie. It only takes seven and a half blackbirds to make half a pie. 'Specially since the raven got her wing cut off, and I can't feel my legs, so I can't run. I can't run! I can't - " His voice failed into nothing as unconsciousness finally claimed him back again, and those two, cold, dead eyes closed.  
  
"Wh-what's wrong with him?" whispered Kurt.   
  
Alvin sighed. "There are various physical things that could threaten his life. The tendon in his ankle has snapped, so if we don't do something soon he may never run again. And if those burns on his back become infected, he may - "  
  
"But that ain't the least of our worries," said Logan, cutting him off. "You seen the look in his eyes before, ain'tcha, Elf? We all have."  
  
"Ja," replied Kurt, pushing aside how Logan had told him of the same look in Alvin's gaze not so long ago. "It was there a lot when things first started to... to spiral into hell."  
  
Logan nodded, letting the poetic language slide. "S'the look a guy gets when he's lost ev'rythin' and can't see the point in doin' any more. Main danger to Speedy ain't in his body. It's in his soul."  
  
Kurt gulped, and tried to keep the tears at bay. He felt responsible, even though he knew none of this was his fault.  
  
Or was it? He was the one who'd found Pietro back in Bayville. If he hadn't gone to investigate that one strange cry, if he'd left the speedster behind and never brought him on this trip in the first place, then perhaps...  
  
"What of my mother?" Kurt asked quietly, changing the subject and turning to Alvin.   
  
The zealot glanced towards the other blue mutant. "She's lost most of her left arm below the elbow. Considering the extent of her injuries, she didn't lose too much blood. I put on some paste to block infections and wrapped the whole thing in bandages."   
  
"Chances for recovery?"   
  
"She will live," he said with certainty.   
  
Kurt's eyes conveyed the other meaning to his words.   
  
"The hand?" Alvin shook his head. "I don't know her powers well enough to say."   
  
*******************  
  
"Yo." A hand on her shoulder jostled Raven awake.   
  
"What?" she murmured aloud, before realising who it was.   
  
Todd took the hand that only the two of them could see, rubbing the back with his thumb. "I don't wanna see no pity-parties here," he said sternly. "You gotta rest a while, then you'll be able to shift a new hand any time you want. So no whinin', y'hear?"   
  
_I'll whine if I want._ Raven closed her eyes again. _I'm entitled. We just lost two people..._   
  
*******************  
  
The words slid into Rogue's subconscious. _Lost two people..._  
  
"Two people..." she murmured, reclining back in her seat on the bus.   
  
Two people.  
  
Her and Wanda.   
  
They'd come through so much together, supporting and pushing each other. Attained freedom together, rebirthed their lives together.  
  
Then 7541 had the nerve to throw herself off a bridge, and 5930 didn't know if she could keep going forward alone.   
  
Not fair.   
  
"Abandoned me," she said into the armrest, as tears dampened the cloth there.   
  
*******************  
  
Ariel woke again from a fitful doze, still feeling dried out. His gills were fine, but the rest of him was dehydrated, and he'd used all the water he'd been given.   
  
He staggered unheeded away from the line of injured, towards the riverbank, and stared down at the water. He stretched his hand out in greeting. The water answered, sending an eager, forgiving serpent up. Water rarely held grudges. After what he'd been forced to do to it, he was glad of that small mercy. It understood. It always understood. But it was trying to tell him something, too.  
  
There was a dead girl in the water.   
  
He and the serpent could feel it, her body gently nudging the bank, caught there somehow.   
  
But Ariel was scared of her, even in death, and he was also unbelievably thirsty. So he merely kissed the serpent and slaked his thirst, not looking at the shell that had once held such dangerous life.  
  
*******************  
  
Broken. They were all broken, one way or another. Broken families, broken hearts, broken bodies and broken minds.   
  
Logan, as the most able-bodied, had to get them the hell out of Dodge. But he just couldn't make his mind work, right now.   
  
All broken.   
  
He realised he was staring at the Water Baby - Ariel - and the bar code on his cheek that told the world he was a slave. He was twelve if he was a day. Just a kid, really. How much death and pain did he know already?   
  
Too much.   
  
They had to move. Get out of here. Find safety.   
  
But there was burned out wreck of a car in the way.   
  
Logan made his body work and got to the little goldfish. "Hey, kid."   
  
The boy turned away from his creation, which stretched extraordinarily away into the river. "My name's Ariel."   
  
"Don't go for names, much. Look. Can you do something about that damn car blockin' our way or not?"   
  
The snake he was drinking from turned into a dragon, large and ferocious. In seconds, the car was gone.   
  
"I think so."   
  
Logan felt traces of a smile starting. He liked this kid already. "You're welcome to travel with us if you like," he offered. Hell, with the kid's power, he could do whatever he felt like doing and nothing could stop him. "Won't let anyone own you again."   
  
Ariel seemed to find that funny. "I didn't even get an owner to begin with. Yes. I'll travel with you. Just - don't make me take water from bodies?"   
  
Logan managed a proper, full smile. "Deal."  
  
*******************  
  
Scry put a hand to his forehead. He stopped suddenly, and Grasshopper carried on a few paces ahead before noticing.   
  
"What is it?" he demanded, bouncing back and fixing his friend with a penetrating stare. "What do you see?"   
  
"Nothing," Scry replied cryptically.   
  
For his part, Grasshopper scowled, and signalled that the trio of mutants he'd rounded up to fortify the church should carry on without him. When they were suitably out of earshot, he turned to the short man again.   
  
"Look, Scry, you gotta give me more than that. At least a hint."   
  
"I can't see," Scry said again in a monotone, then carried on before Grasshopper could jump in angrily. "But I can feel. I feel... great sadness. Loneliness amongst many."   
  
The cicada-like mutant cocked his head to one side and rustled his wind-casings irritably. "Where?"   
  
"Close. So very close. They're disjointed. All together, yet so far apart. They travel as one, but each feels distant from his or her neighbour on their quest. They must find a way to bind themselves, or else they won't survive the journey."   
  
"You're talking about those travellers again, aren't you?"   
  
"Forgiveness. That's the way forward, if only they'll see it. Man and mutant must link arms as friends, or both races shall perish. There is no other way, except friendship and... love." He blinked and removed the hand. "That's all."   
  
"Bloody useful, isn't it?" Grasshopper scuffed a clawed foot, and glanced over his shoulder down the desolate street where only a few twitching curtains betrayed the presence of his townsfolk. "We need to know more details about their movements, not their state of mind. I wish Sneak was here."   
  
"But I am," said a sinuous voice, and both Grasshopper and Scry jumped and looked about them nervously.   
  
"Sneak?" Grasshopper was the first to recompose himself, and he listened intently for some sign of the scout. "Show yourself. We ain't got time for games."   
  
The shadowy wall of the building to their left rippled slightly, like a rock dropped into a pool of water, and then reformed in the near-translucent image of a willowy man with wispy hair and searching grey eyes. His pale complexion and clothing belied how he'd blended so completely into the murk, and as he stepped forward, Scry shivered the same shiver he always did when confronted with the pallid, washed-out looking spy.   
  
Grasshopper wasn't so cowed. "What you got for me, Sneak?" he asked, crackling his wings inside his shell.   
  
Sneak bowed his head in the manner of a courtier, and said lugubriously, "They aren't far from here, but their journey has been impeded somewhat by unforeseen circumstances. A rock rose in their way, and though it has now been removed, it will take them some time to recover and bubble through the gorge left in its wake."   
  
"Sneak," the leader growled warningly, "you're talking in circles again."   
  
Sneak bowed. "My apologies. The travellers are, at present, consumed with grief at the loss of one of their number, and the death of another they knew. There was a scuffle, and several members of their party were injured. There is a Jamie with them. It will take them a while to regroup enough, both in body and in spirit, to continue forth with their journey."   
  
"How long, d'ya reckon?"   
  
"The human healer with them wasn't hopeful."   
  
"Explain."   
  
Sneak coughed, and when he spoke again, it was in quite a different voice. Low and gruff, it sounded as though he was speaking through both beard and suppressed tears, yet there was an incredulously angry edge to his tone. "The *morning*? We'll be lucky if he's ready to move by the end of the *month*!"   
  
Grasshopper frowned. "A month? But you said they'd be here within a few days, Scry."   
  
The smaller mutant nodded. "They will. I can't tell you which day, but within six days they will have reached the Lands of New Hope."   
  
"Pah!" Grasshopper let go of his niceties and spat on the ground. "Gobble-de-gook place. All backward, if you ask me. Anyhow, I trust your visions, Scry. Sneak; go see Mary about some food. You look like you could use a good meal after your scout. Then see what else you can dig up from our friends way out yonder." He jerked a pointed thumb, and Sneak bobbed his head before fading back into the brickwork. They didn't ever hear his footsteps as he left.   
  
Scry shivered again. "We'd best get to the Temple, now," he suggested, and together they set off to where the sounds of nails being hammered into wood were heavy on the air.  
  
*******************  
  
After some moving and changing around, the bus had been turned over entirely to the injured for the night, and the others had slept outside in a lean-to put up in practiced fashion by a gang of Jamies.   
  
Pietro was still asleep when Alvin went to check on him, puffing his cheeks and stamping his feet in the chill morning air. The mist from the river was spilling slowly over the sides of the bridge in front of them.   
  
Pietro's ankle was swelling grossly, and his burns were starting to blister. One of the particularly large ones on his chest had already split, and was impregnating the bandage with a sickly cast. The extensive bruising had purpled entirely. About the only things that hadn't gotten worse were the cuts.   
  
Alvin decided to risk raising the injured foot slightly to reduce the swelling. As he lifted it gingerly to arrange a blanket underneath, however, Pietro woke up and hissed.   
  
"That hurts," he said petulantly, sounding a little more like his old self.   
  
"I'm sorry, but you are lucky to be alive, Master Maximoff."   
  
A wan smirk. It was as pale as he was. "Heh-heh... Master... cool..."   
  
"You need to go back to sleep. I'll check on the others." Alvin winced as Pietro pulled himself up hastily at that.   
  
"How's Robyn?" he asked, suddenly panicking. "I need to see Robyn!"   
  
"Robyn is doing well," Alvin replied soothingly, hesitant to restrain him. "Goddess willing. It seems the child is protected."   
  
"Oh. Good," Pietro said, suddenly satisfied. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asked, "Uh, who by?"   
  
Alvin regarded him strangely. "Her sister, of course. And her brother."   
  
"Ah. Daisy. Kurt's been taking good care of her?"   
  
"I meant, uh, you."   
  
Pietro grinned fit to crack his face. As a matter of fact, some of the brittle skin around his jaw did break open and oozed a viscous blood. "I *am* a good brother," he said, and with finality.   
  
"Of course you are, Master Maximoff. Just sit back on the bed?"   
  
Pietro complied absent-mindedly, moving his lips faintly and inaudibly.   
  
Alvin continued on his rounds in silence.   
  
Kurt and Raven he had deemed fit to leave the bus when they felt up to it, and were currently together, trying to convince her hand that it wanted to regrow.   
  
Robyn was, as he had predicted, stable, and probably healing. It was still too early to make any meaningful diagnosis, but she was crying with the pain, so he gave her a little more analgesic.   
  
Ariel had retired for the night by sleeping down half in the river, which lead Alvin to surmise he may be cold-blooded, or at least have a subhuman body temperature.   
  
When Alvin left the bus, Kitty and Jamie were packing up the lean-to, and Logan and Rogue were doing something with the wreck of the car. A spare Jamie was looking harassed and dealing with a squalling Hope. Daisy was morosely throwing rocks off the side of the bridge.   
  
Logan noticed Alvin, and, leaving Rogue to contend with the car alone, walked over to him. "So ... whaddaya think? Outlook any better?"   
  
"The outlook," Alvin said patiently, "has not changed. There is no way Pietro will be able to move of his own accord without severe pain and risk of further damage for at least a month."   
  
"Is he okay to get moved in the bus?"   
  
"I would very much prefer that not happen. The bus is in bad condition, and even a smooth journey would only exacerbate his problems."   
  
"Not even for a short journey?"   
  
"*No*, Logan," Alvin said incredulously. His patience was long, but Logan's persistence was testing it. The fact he'd neglected to mention the words 'Blessed One' was testament to it. "Pietro cannot be moved. I do not see what problems you are having understanding this."   
  
Logan grumbled, and rubbed the stubble on his chin. He reached for his shirt pocket, where he had habitually kept his cigarettes. Neither the cigarettes or the pocket were there, and he overbalanced for a second. "Jamie!" he bellowed suddenly.  
  
The Jamie with Hope looked up, and walked over. "What?" he said curtly, Hope continually punching him in the face. It seemed to amuse her, so he put up with it.   
  
"How long would it take me to reach Mutie Town in the bus?"   
  
Jamie did not even glance at Alvin as he spoke to Logan. "Probably a couple of hours. Why?"   
  
"Do you have any teleporters there?"   
  
Alvin started to protest, but Jamie cut him off. "Lots. I know about three personally, and there's probably more."   
  
"Any of them capable of gettin' here and takin' Pietro back there?"   
  
Jamie nodded, and Hope's fist snagged in his upper lip. He removed it with deliberate calm, and then nodded again, more slowly. "I think so, yeah. There's none of them will trust you far enough to go with you, though."   
  
"That case, you're comin' with me."   
  
"You can't just do that!" exclaimed Alvin. "Pietro and Robyn are in the bus. You can't take them out, and you can't move it with them in!"   
  
Logan regarded Alvin critically for a few moments. Then, looking like he had come to a decision, said, "Watch me."  
  
Jamie quirked his lip in briefly in malicious glee, then stamped his foot. A dupe appeared behind him, following Logan to the bus. "Looks like you're not important anymore," he said, sounding offhand.   
  
Alvin had ignored him and was chasing after Logan. "Pietro can't be moved, Logan! I've told you already, what are you having trouble with?"   
  
"What's this?" asked Rogue, sauntering over.   
  
"God Boy here ain't seein' reason. We need to get the bus to Mutie Town, and I need to get Pietro outta it to do that. He says I can't."   
  
Rogue boggled slightly, and then said, "Of course you can't! We ain't leavin' Pietro behind!"   
  
"Nope. I am. Me an' Jamie, we're gonna leave, and we'll send a teleporter back for Pietro an' the rest of you."   
  
"Oh. Why won't you let him, Alvin?"   
  
"Pietro *cannot* be moved!" Alvin said, sounding increasing angry and disbelieving. "Why will nobody listen to me?"   
  
"I don't see no alternative, really..."   
  
"You can walk," he said, gritting his teeth and stepping in front of Logan to block the door to the bus. "But neither Pietro nor Robyn can be moved from this bus."   
  
"Maybe not," interjected the Jamie who had followed. He smiled. It was not a nice sight. "But then again, maybe they can."   
  
Without much effort, he wrestled Alvin away from the doorway and held him in such a way as to prevent him from moving. Alvin thrashed and protested loudly, drawing all the others. A team of Jamies spawned from the one holding Alvin, and carried Pietro and Robyn gently out of the bus.   
  
"What are you doing with Robyn?" demanded Kurt, angry and in pain, one ailment feeding the other.   
  
"Don't worry, Elf," said Logan. "Alvin just don't see what needs doin'."   
  
"And that is?" Kurt prompted, looking sceptical.   
  
"We need to fetch a teleporter from Mutie Town. We need the bus to get there fast. We can't do it with Pietro and Robyn in there. Sorry, Elf."   
  
"What are you doing to Alvin?" shouted Raven at the appropriate Jamie. The end of her arm supported the vestiges of a hand, evidencing a facet of her power few had rarely witnessed before.   
  
Logan answered for him. "Alvin weren't gonna let us move 'em. We got no choice, darlin'. Sorry for Speedy and the kid, but it's happenin'."   
  
Logan then stepped into the bus with a Jamie and started the motor. The others seemed to be too shocked to do anything.   
  
Alvin struggled to get free, weeping and remonstrating. He finally worked one arm out and, punching the dominant Jamie with surprising force in the side of the head, started after the vehicle. However, another Jamie simply reached down and caught his ankle, sending him sprawling. Then the lot of them held him down.  
  
A brawl ensued, Kurt and the others trying to get Alvin free, but the Jamies simply duplicated themselves to hold them back. Kurt's broken rib twanged agonisingly, taking him out of the fight, as did Raven's tender new hand.   
  
Once the bus had passed too far to stop, the Jamies simply smirked at the others and snapped their fingers, flickering briefly and passing out of existence.   
  
Rogue glared at the Jamie holding Hope, who had stayed out of the fight, and held out her hands. He simply put on a 'who, me?' face, but relented and handed over the baby. Raven started screaming at him, but he dismissed her concerns, then vanished as well.   
  
Only the one Jamie remained, the one who had been helping Kitty with the lean-to some distance away. He sat down on a stanchion of the bridge, and listened with nonchalance to the others berating him.   
  
As soon as the last of the Jamies had vanished, Alvin rolled to his feet and rushed towards Pietro's prone form.   
  
"Idiots!" he cursed, zealous tears running down his face. "Oh, Goddess, how am I going to get him through this?"  
  
"Alvin," murmured Kitty, "Don't you think you're over reacting a little? I mean, Logan's actions may save Pietro's life."  
  
"They'll more likely kill him!" Alvin snapped, beyond good manners. "I've been looking after wounded people for the last four years. The longer Pietro and Robyn are out in the open, the more germs and diseases they're susceptible to, and the more chance there is their wounds will become infected! And if that happens then they don't have a hope in hell! Not to mention the strain on Pietro's muscles from moving him, the chance of dehydration or hypothermia, and the other hundred and one reasons why I was keeping him on the bus!" He held his face in his hands. "The rate this is going, I might as put him to sleep. It'd be less painful for all involved."  
  
"Ja, just like you were going to do to Robyn." Kurt's voice cut through the air like a knife. He was sick of the God Boy's ranting, and the worry over their injured now had stirred a sliver of bitterness over earlier events. Pain engendered more pain, and hurt more hurt.  
  
The next sound was that of a single man's patience finally snapping.   
  
With one smooth movement, Alvin got to his feet and punched Kurt in the face. The elf went down hard and fats, not expecting the move.   
  
"You prejudiced... bigot!" Alvin shouted, so livid he couldn't even find words to communicate the feelings roiling around inside his gut. "You... you utter hypocrite! You go on and on about peace and love and a dream, talk about humans and mutants working together, but you just don't believe it, do you?"  
  
"Alvin," said Kitty feebly.   
  
"No, no, *no*! I'm sick of being talked out. I'm sick of being talked down to, of being dismissed as some crazy God Boy. I'm *sick* of being treated like a piece of *dirt*! And why? I used to think I deserved it. Maybe you were the Chosen Ones and I was just normal. But now I know the truth. Now I understand what's going on! You're all as racist and prejudiced and bitter as any raider! You treat me like dirt because I'm human, because I'm not special, because my DNA doesn't have a few extra bits and pieces! Well, maybe I don't have super powers, maybe I wasn't as badly treated as you four years ago, but I've done my fair amount of stuff since then. I save lives, I work to help people with all the small power I possess, because I believe - used to believe, that any life is worth saving. And that it's not just about the quantity of life, but the quality. I don't deny that that my faith may have been shaken, broken even. I don't deny that I'm having a little crisis at the moment. I certainly don't deny who I am, and what I feel. Unlike some of you!"  
  
He turned back to Kurt, still lying prone in the sand, staring up at the priest in shock.   
  
"But you're the one who disgusts me most of all," Alvin hissed, and somehow the bare-faced genuineness in his words quashed any comment. "And I've worked you out now. When I heard about you, when I first met you, I thought of you as a hero. I thought, 'there's a man who's dealt with prejudice all his life, and who forgives. There's a man who doesn't judge people by their genetics.' Well, was I wrong, because that's what that Robyn thing was about, wasn't it? I thought it was me, but it wasn't. If Logan, or Kitty, or anyone else done what I did, you would have forgiven them, but not me. Why? Because I'm human, and I understand that now. You watched your friends being killed by humans, and ever since then you've tried to protect Robyn from us. Even from me, when you thought I was a threat. You've never forgiven humanity for what it did to your fellow X-Men, and I understand that. But don't hate me for the way my genes are sequenced. And don't start going on about forgiveness and a better hope for the world until you're willing to live up to that dream yourself. Both ways."  
  
He turned, then, talking at them all. "Now, since I'm only a stupid flatscan, who is obviously not worthy of the attention of such *great* mutants as yourselves, I'll be going. Good luck in looking after Pietro and Robyn. I'd stay for their sakes, but, as Logan so wonderfully pointed out, he's a far better doctor than I am."  
  
Alvin turned on his heel and stalked off into the wilderness, not even bothering to look back over his shoulder at their gaping mouths and guilty expressions.   
  
He had not walked too far when there was the sound of running feet behind him, and a fuzzy blue hand caught his shoulder.   
  
"Wait," said a soft, familiar voice.   
  
Alvin shook him off and kept walking. "Going to beat me up or scream at me or something?" he asked in a cold tone.   
  
"Nein, I came... I want to apologise."  
  
  
  
Alvin turned and looked at Kurt. The elf's eyes were wide with sincerity, and his tail lashed nervously behind him. But it wasn't enough. Not now. Too much had been said and done and felt for a simple soulful look to work anymore.  
  
"A lot of what you said," Kurt went on, "well, I don't know. Maybe you're right. Maybe we've been treating you badly because you're human; even if we sometimes didn't... realise we were doing it. And that *is* wrong. As were my actions. I... I don't know if I felt the way I did because of your humanity. Maybe I did, deep down inside. But I do know I shouldn't. I *do* know you meant the best for Robyn, even though it didn't feel like it at the time. And I know that..." he took a deep breath, "I know that I shouldn't hide behind what happened four years ago. I shouldn't use that to justify what I do. You may not have superpowers, Alvin, but you're a dreamer, and a healer, and so perhaps the most important member of this team. We can't go on without you. So please, forgive us. Or at least forgive them, if you can't forgive me."  
  
Kurt proffered a hand, and Alvin saw that it was trembling.   
  
The man was silent for a while, thinking.   
  
He couldn't. He wouldn't. He was hurting just as much as them, and refused to go back and be a punching bag for their convenience.   
  
_Both ways._  
  
Slowly, he raised his own arm, and shook hands with the mutant.   
  
"Very well. All I ask is this; in the matters of healing, my decisions stand. And I want you to at least try to back me up."  
  
"Ja," replied Kurt, nodding vehemently. Something tinkled, like glass shards slotting back together, but neither of them heard it. "I will do that. Danke. Mein Freund?"  
  
Alvin smiled, feeling like, after a long time, he had regained a little piece of the dream cherished for so long. Goddess or not, a dream could stand. All it needed was people to prop it up every now and again.  
  
Hand in hand, the mutant and the man walked back through the wasteland to their makeshift camp.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
******************* 


	30. Whatif

A/N ~ Before anybody quotes my on my bad syntax in the chapter title, let me just say that there is method to my madness. The typo is not a typo, it is intentional.  
  
Gerri; Newcomer, welcome! No need for kicking, but I have ointment if you still feel compelled to do so. Also, I apologise for ransoming you from your friends and family for the three days it took you to read this. 'Can't have one without the other; where would the fun in that be?' Mayhaps in the mental torture we can now put Pietro through? (Insert evil cackle here)  
  
Hootild; 'Alvin, Alvin, he's our man, if he can't do it, everyone's screwed!' Bwaaaahahahahahahahahaaa! Nutshell, I love thee dearly. Thanks for that one, hootild.   
  
Yma; Verily. Grasshopper is one of my favourites, too. Sarky so-n'-so...  
  
The Phantom; 'When you KNOW you KNOW what's right, and NOBODY will listen to you! I hate that!' Me too. 'I've never been dragged around by a mob of clones, though.' Me neither. More's the pity. ;) You ask for Magneto? Shazam, say I! And he shall appear... I've really go to get off the Shakespeare...  
  
Ambrosia; Aftermath, yes. The bit in between where they got off the bridge, walked/limped back to the bus etc. was just too boring for words, and so just *couldn't* be put in. 'Punkin' belongs to Yodelbean, and yes, it's Logan's accent catching on the word 'pumpkin'. Shock, horror - for once it's not my sub-par typing skills at work! 'Hard and fats'... well, that was me. Damn.   
  
Ice Princess; 'Blood caking' is a phrase I've always used. It pertains to how partially scabbed blood encrusts a person's skin, clothing, hair etc. Yma will be pleased you like the Gingerbread bit. It's rather freaky how good she is at writing insane people, actually. And Happy Belated Turkey Day to you, too. I think. Ach, we don't celebrate Thanksgiving in England (for obvious reasons), so I have no idea when it is. So I'll wish you a Happy Belated Bonfire Night, as well.  
  
Krazy Xanadu; So soon? *Checks chapter counter* Um... okay. Ariel is an OC who started life as a sketch by Origami Kitten. His original incarnation can be found at http://www.geocities.com/origamikitten/arieldragon.html and http://www.geocities.com/origamikitten/ariel.html Both scenes later made it into _Judgment Day_. See if you can spot where they come from.   
  
Amarth Obstreperous; Bwa-ha-haaa, you're beloved characters are my playground! Wait, that sounded sick... um... move along, now, nothing to see here.  
  
Kamikaze Angel 07; Glad you like Alvin. He really seems to be popular, doesn't he? Not bad for a Biblical-splurge-speaking-robe-wearing-prophecy-spouting-nutball. And if taking a shine to fics where favourite characters are mistreated makes one a sadist, well... Where'd I put that bloody whip?  
  
Anime-catdagon; Penguins. *Shudders* 'Nuff said.  
  
UnknownSource; 'I do like Jamie, but when they were holding back Alvin i wanted to whack the little cloner round the back of the head.' Which would rather have exacerbated the problem, don't you think? ;) And as I told The Phantom a propos Magneto and his crew; ask, and ye shall receive.  
  
Risa; 'Yessirree...Guess the whole Wanda coming back theory just got flushed down the pooper.' *Snickersnort* Beer all around, eh? You spoil them, Risa. Todd is... an odd one to call. Waaaay back in the first chapter we saw Evan's ghost, so it could well be he's real. But then again, considering Raven's state of mind, he may just be a figment of her guilt. It's really up to you as the reader as to which way you interpret him. 'He deserved a nice reality check in the form of a five-fingered sandwich.' Hear hear! Bwee-hee-hee-hee...  
  
S. S. Goten; Thanks for the compliments. And stand by for some nice, good old fashioned Kurt angst. ^_^  
  
AerinBrown; Thank you. More characters dying? Well, now that you mention it... :)  
  
*******************  
  
Thirtieth Fragment ~ 'Whatif'  
  
*******************  
  
What I don't understand," Raven said mock-conversationally, as they waited for human and elf to return, "is why Logan didn't just take the jeep?" She nodded her head at Lance and Kitty's former vehicle, the rope with which it had been tethered to the rear of the bus sprawled on the ground. "That would've saved all this bother."   
  
Rogue looked up, expression strangely blank. "No gas," she said simply. "Pietro emptied the tank into the bus a ways back so we could travel further without stopping in that town."   
  
"Oh." What else could she say?   
  
The shapeshifter looked about, taking in the various small, dejected members of their team, if you could call it such. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the absence of two younger members, and craned her neck trying to spot them.   
  
Rogue looked up again from where she was crouched next to Pietro. The speedster was thoroughly out of it, and only a faint whimper of pain as he twitched every now and again betrayed he was even still alive, since his chest moved too fast to register.   
  
"What is it?"   
  
"Where's Daisy? And that new boy, with the gills?"   
  
"Ariel," Rogue supplied, and gestured down to the water's edge. "He's been there all night. Daisy went down not long ago. She don't like fights an' arguments. They remind her too much of home."   
  
"She told you that?" Raven was surprised. Daisy wasn't renowned for her talkativeness, except to Logan, and she never mentioned her old home if she could help it.   
  
But as she turned away, not listening properly, Raven missed her daughter's next words. They were caught by the breeze and flung into the air like a useless piece of dust.   
  
"No, she didn't say nuthin'."  
  
*******************  
  
"Whatcha doin'?"   
  
Ariel looked up at the small lizardine girl and then back at the open expanse of water. "Just... thinking," he replied.   
  
"What about?"   
  
"Stuff."   
  
"What kinda stuff?"   
  
"Just... stuff."   
  
She frowned, scales scraping slightly as they knit together between her eyes. "Well that's just dumb," she declared, and sat down next to him with a faint plop.   
  
Ariel blinked, drawn from his reverie by her words. "Say what?"   
  
"You can't just think of 'stuff'. You gotta think of *somethin'*." She sniffed, folding her arms and staring out onto the river. Her eye was immediately drawn to the floating corpse, caught on the opposite bank by an old rotten tree, no doubt killed long ago by the cure to the X-Virus. She blinked, and then hastily looked away again.   
  
Ariel looked at her, cocking his head to one side. Without warning he sat down, drawing his legs under himself Indian-style and laying his hands in his lap. The flash of gold pulled her gaze across.   
  
"You got scales too?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"What's that funny mark fer?" She pointed to his cheek. Ariel gingerly touched the barcode.   
  
"It means I was once a chattel."   
  
"Cattle?" Her brow puckered again. "Don't look like no cow to me. Let's hear you moo, then. All cows go moo."   
  
He couldn't suppress the chuckle that rose in his throat, and found himself laughing out loud at her bare-faced innocence. The girl looked shocked for a moment, and then peeked out from behind her hands.   
  
"Why're you laughing?" she demanded.   
  
He thought about it, and then shrugged, laughing harder. "I don't know. Sometimes it's just good to laugh."   
  
She blinked, and let her vaguely-webbed hands drop. She regarded him for a second before saying, in a decisive voice, "You're weird." Then, "I like you."   
  
"Thanks. I think."   
  
"You gonna come with us to see the Goddess?"   
  
Having already been briefed by Logan on the intent of their journey, Ariel nodded.   
  
"Good. Robyn's... she's still real sick, an' I don't got no-one to play games with."   
  
"Robyn? You mean that other girl?"   
  
"Uh-huh."   
  
There was a pause, and then, "What's playing games?"   
  
She seemed aghast. "You don't know howda play *games*?"   
  
He shook his head. "Nu-uh."   
  
"I'll teach you then. Everybody's gotta know how to play *games*. S'part of *life*." She abruptly thrust her hand under his nose, evidently expecting him to shake it. "I'm Daisy."   
  
Tentatively, he took her palm, and nearly had his arm pumped off at the shoulder. "Uh, I'm Ariel. Pleased to meet you."   
  
"You ever heard of Stone Skimming?"   
  
"No. What is it?"   
  
Her lips curved upwards, and she dragged him along the bank. "Well, first, you gotta pick out the bestest, flattest stones you can..."  
  
*******************  
  
The bus trundled past the rows of broken down houses and gaping walls where buildings had once stood, every creak and groan magnified by the echoing spaces. There wasn't a single soul around, and Logan peered suspiciously through the windshield.   
  
"You *sure* you been leadin' me down the right track?"   
  
"This is Mutie Town," Jamie replied, though he too sounded a little perplexed. "The townsfolk must be in hiding with all the noise this old thing's making."   
  
Logan grunted, shooting him a sideways glance. "You'd better not be settin' us up, kid. Or else..." Taking one hand off the wheel, he patted the back of the other where three faint grooves were just visible in his skin.   
  
Jamie stood up and pressed his face to the glass. "Stop here," he commanded suddenly, and with such force that Logan jammed on the brakes with a screaming skid.   
  
"What?"   
  
"I thought I saw something. Open the door."   
  
Logan's eyes narrowed. "Oh no you don't, short stuff. Wherever you go, I go too." He cut the engine and rose from his seat. Jamie tapped his foot impatiently.   
  
"Well hurry up about it then. Come on, move it."   
  
"Quiet," was the brusque response, followed by the burly man barrelling his way out of the door. He held his fists at the ready, and padded forward a few steps until Jamie disembarked beside him.   
  
"It was over here," the boy said, pattering over to a partially crumbled wall covered in ancient graffiti. His footsteps sent up clouds of dust, and Logan coughed as he followed.   
  
The wall gave up nothing, though they skirted around it several times. After the third encircling, Logan stopped and folded his arms.   
  
"Ain't nuthin' here, sunshine."   
  
"But I was *sure*..." Jamie kicked at a brick with his foot, sending it tumbling to one side. He looked up and around, expression a mix of pensive and dejected. His glorious return had been marred by the lack of people to exalt it to. "Where *is* everybody?"   
  
"Not here," Logan replied, and turned to head back to the bus. He let out only the smallest of noises as something small and fast suddenly clipped his shoulder, making him stumble. "Hey! What was that fer?"   
  
Jamie blinked. "What was what for?"   
  
"You threw sumthin' at me."   
  
"No I didn't."   
  
Something blew past Logan's other shoulder, too fast for him to see what it was. He growled, and the claws on his left hand reflexively popped out. "Somebody's watchin' us," he said slowly, a savage undercurrent to his tone.   
  
Jamie's face lit up. "Where?" he asked, whirling around.   
  
The smallest of noises caused Logan to raise his head, and a snarl escaped his throat. "From the heavens, kid. Lookit."   
  
Positioned atop the numerous buildings, rocks, stones and other weapons at the ready, were a veritable menagerie of creatures. Most looked humanoid, but some were so badly disfigured they looked little more than walking corpses. All of them watched the duo below with searching eyes, as if merely awaiting the signal to strike. Something in their collective gaze reminded Logan of a pack of wild dogs, and his other claws egressed with a faint 'snikt'.   
  
"Well, this can't be good."  
  
The creatures chittered and laughed amongst themselves.  
  
Jamie was not amused. "These," he said to Logan, "are some of the inhabitants of Mutie Town. Why're you all acting like this? It's me, Jamie, and I bring a new mutant. I vouch for him!"  
  
  
  
"Gotta be careful kid," muttered one of the assembled multitude. "Things been tough lately. The child of Magneto escaped, and she caused right damage on 'er way out. Then we 'ad a 'uman raid on the western border. Few of us died, but more 'umans died."  
  
Jamie nodded. "Good. Now bring us Grasshopper! He needs to know of the situation. We have the second child of Magneto, Windswift! But his's badly hurt and in need of Layla's help."  
  
  
  
Reluctantly, a slender thing covered in white silver fur, wearing nothing than a few strips of cloth, departed to find Grasshopper. She appeared to move by creating a force field about her feet, and 'skidding' it across the rocky ground. Logan was impressed.   
  
But still very worried.   
  
"Why're they so suspicious, kid?" he growled. "I was kinda expectin' a friendlier welcomin' party."  
  
  
  
Jamie shrugged. "Being suspicious is part and parcel of any Mutie Towner. You'll learn to accept it after a while."  
  
And somehow, his words struck a sudden chord of trepidation.   
  
They didn't have long to wait before the enigmatic 'Grasshopper' arrived. A small posse of mutants approached them on the ground, watched intently by those above, but the leader was easy to pick out.   
  
Like his namesake he was lithe and covered in a hard shell, like an exoskeleton, which ended in vaguely oval casings on his back that no doubt held gossamer wings. His joints were as though a small child had stuck him together with glue, bending in all the wrong places and seemingly about to snap at any second.   
  
However, unlike the insect, this mutant was incredibly tall, and walked sedately on two legs with all four arms clasped behind his back. His 'skin' was a pure, unblemished white, belying the grubby conditions he lived in. Lank black hair hung greasily about his face, framing equally dark eyes and a tight, hard mouth.   
  
These same eyes glinted shrewdly at both Logan and Jamie, and when he finally stopped he towered over them both whilst still in a slouch. Logan reckoned him to be at least eight feet, and suppressed the growl rising in the back of his throat as he was confronted by this town's equivalent of an alpha male.   
  
"Who're you?"   
  
Logan squared his chest, and came up just short of Grasshopper's armpit. "Wolverine," he replied, choosing to use his old codename rather than his real one for the present. No point in giving all their secrets away at once.   
  
Grasshopper's eyes narrowed to the left, glaring at a shadow, but when Logan looked there was nobody there.   
  
"Really? I was under the impression your name was Logan."   
  
"Some days it is, and some days not. You're the leader 'round here, I take it?"   
  
"I am." Grasshopper peered over his head. "Jamie, is this one with you?"   
  
"Yes." Jamie came to stand by Logan's side, lightly touching the older man's elbow in a gesture that clearly read 'calm down, this isn't your turf.' "I won't bother filling you in on the details, since I'm sure Sneak's already done a pretty fine job already."   
  
"Indeed."   
  
Logan raised an eyebrow. Sneak? That sounded like a spy-name, and not a very subtle one either. So these guys had been watching them all along, then?   
  
Jamie and Grasshopper exchanged a few words, amidst much shaking of heads and talking over Logan's own cranium. Eventually they managed to hash out what had happened, with Jamie filling in the blanks this 'Sneak' had left until his leader was satisfied.   
  
"Windswift, you say?" Grasshopper rearranged his wing casings with a sound like twisting fenders. "How far?" He didn't seem unduly concerned with the news of Wanda's death, despite knowing her for a short while, and Logan was left to wondering what kind of an impression 'Lady Luck' had made on this place to elicit such a callous reaction to her untimely demise.   
  
"A few clicks," Jamie answered, having already outlined Logan's idea a propos a teleporter.   
  
Grasshopper muttered something to himself, then turned and gestured into the small crowd of mutants behind him. "Bairn," he snapped, "Come here."   
  
The ranks parted for a small girl to pass through. She was tiny, smaller than Robyn, and thin as a rake. Bones jutted out in all the wrong places, and her cheeks were little more than husps of skin stretched taut over bone. Her clothes looked like they'd seen better days, but had been gathered in so much to accommodate her minuscule frame that it was difficult to tell what exactly they were supposed to *be*.   
  
She made sound like brittle leaves crunching underfoot, but shaped it into no words. Her eyes were completely white save for a yellow slit of a pupil that darted around ceaselessly.   
  
"Take Jamie back to the site he specifies and bring back those you find there. Don't take long."   
  
She nodded, wordlessly taking Jamie's hand. A brief moment of concentration was followed by the appearance of a large black disc on the ground, which the two of them stepped into like a puddle of water. They sank without trace, and it vanished again with a faint crackle.   
  
Logan turned back, and Grasshopper gave an ironic semblance of a bow.   
  
"Welcome to Mutie Town."  
  
*******************  
  
All was still in the small gathering of mutants by the river. The only sound was that of Pietro's occasional moaning, and Robyn's pitiful cries.  
  
  
  
{WOOOOOOOWUMPH!}  
  
Suddenly, there was a noise that can only be described as that of the world ripping in two, and a strange black hole appeared in the ground. From its ostensibly fathomless depths, two mutants emerged, clambering out as one might do a cave or rocky ledge.   
  
It was Jamie and a strange looking... well, presumably the tiny, skeletal like thing was a girl, but it was difficult to tell.   
  
Logan was nowhere in sight.   
  
"Come on," Jamie commanded. "Let's get out of here."  
  
  
  
As they dragged themselves to their feet, Jamie went over to the battered form of Pietro. He bent to pick him up, but was stopped by Alvin.   
  
"No! Move him, and you may reopen his wounds to more infection. Let me do some extra bandaging first."   
  
Jamie sneered, and bent over again, ignoring Alvin's words as he had done before.   
  
"Nein!" said Kurt. "Do as he says. Alvin's our healer. If you want Pietro to live, then listen to him."  
  
  
  
Jamie looked like he had something to say about this, but a glare from Kurt silenced him. He reluctantly allowed Alvin to work over Pietro, and then pick the boy up himself, ready for teleportation.   
  
When everyone had gathered together, and Ariel and Daisy had been called back from stone skimming, the little skeletal girl gestured they step into the widening black rift.   
  
Raven carried the still form of Lance, both arms now whole and regrown, and Kitty followed silently with Hope. She'd barely said two words to anyone the whole time.  
  
"What about Wanda?" asked Rogue, biting her lip and adjusting Robyn in her arms. "Shouldn't we..."  
  
  
  
"Nein," Kurt replied. "We must get Pietro some help soon, and it may take a while to rescue her body from the water. Pietro's life is more important than the corpse of his sister. We can return later. Perhaps."  
  
Rogue looked torn, but came when he tugged on her sleeve. "Perhaps..." she murmured, and then shook her head, knowing it was a lie. She stepped through the portal without another word.  
  
Kurt was last. On his back he had strapped various implements, though nothing too large, owing to his rib. They had all taken some items from the jeep, but they would have to leave much behind. Forge's inventions especially, though Kurt hoped they could be retrieved later.  
  
Unless scavengers stripped them in their wake, of course.  
  
  
  
He took a final look back, surveying the wreckage, the broken, charred earth, the rushing water, the husks of burnt out cars and the abandoned form of the bus.   
  
Then, with a soft sigh, he went through the portal, and also entered Mutie Town.  
  
*******************  
  
"Wake up..." came a low voice.   
  
Peter slowly came to, wondering why he was so warm, and his face was so wet, and his clothes were not so slowly being...  
  
  
  
"Wolfsbane!" He shot awake, knocking Wolfsbane off the small bed of his quarters in the transport. He yanked his shirt back on and glared at the girl as she got up. If it were possible, she was wearing even less than normal, he noted.   
  
"What?" she asked too-innocently. "Didn't Spider like it? I know you want it, and I want it. What's wrong?"   
  
"I... it..." Flustered, Peter just threw up his arms. "Don't you think it's a bit early on for this? I mean, we've only known each other a short while, and - "  
  
  
  
He was silenced by Wolfsbane's index finger pressing against his lips. "You're strong, Spider," she said in a low, sultry voice. "Maybe as strong as me. Magneto looks on you as a son. The rest of Asteroid M looks up to you. And I want you for mine." She pressed against him, her lips hot against his, her tongue pushing possessively into his mouth and -   
  
"No!" Peter said forcefully, breaking the kiss.   
  
He held her shoulders at arm's length, but the rest of her still pressed painfully against him, reminding him quite suddenly that he was, despite his powers, a teenage boy, and she was a more-than-willing teenage girl.   
  
He shook his head. "No, Wolfsbane. This isn't what I want."   
  
She smiled, deliberately showing him just how sharp her teeth were. "Who said I was giving you an option, little Spider?" She dug her nails deep into his forearms, leaving her mark on him. "But you're right. Now's not the time."   
  
Languidly, she rose from his prone form, and he let out the breath he'd been holding and massaged his freely bleeding forearms. She turned, giving him a nearly-unobstructed view of her body and the thin sheen of sweat that covered it.   
  
"When the time's ready for you to become a Spider *Man*, I'll be there." She winked over her shoulder as she left his room.   
  
Peter grabbed a towel from his small stack of supplies to clean off his wounds, and sucked in a breath when he saw exactly how deep Wolfsbane's nails had sunk in. That much damage, and she hadn't even been fully transformed...   
  
*******************  
  
Magneto didn't notice Wolfsbane's entrance to, or exit from Spider-Man's quarters.   
  
But Dazzler did. She glared at the lycanthrope as she re-entered the small ship's common room.   
  
Wolfsbane noticed the attention and suggestively sucked a drop of Peter's blood off the tip of her finger, then gave Dazzler a triumphant grin.   
  
Magneto didn't notice. He had only eyes for the blue and green mass that was quickly coming up to meet them.   
  
_How long has it been?_ he wondered, eyes tracing the patterns of Europe, Africa and the gigantic mass that was the Americas.   
  
It was saddening how much of the land was brown, even from up here in space. There were a few green smudges, but they were few and far between. Much more common were the long stretches of what he knew to be bare earth, worn clean by the chemicals scientists had insisted on spraying the land with. If the X-Virus had killed the land, then the 'cure' had decimated what was left. The Earth was a poor reflection of its former glory, and inwardly he ached for what had been.   
  
_Humans,_ he thought bitterly. _They have no right to be there on the gift nature gave them._   
  
Yet in his heart of hearts, he knew he was hanging on to a half-truth. The mess of a world had been the product of mutant intolerance of humans, too. Charles, if nothing else, had taught him that. It was this clashing of peoples that had ruined things, and though he still preached against the flatscans, his old friend's words still echoed in Erik's head.   
  
What if there was peace between the two? What if mutants had been introduced gradually to society, instead of the sudden exhibition that had doomed them all to fear and hatred? What if... what if... what if...  
  
"Last night, while I lay thinking here, some Whatifs crawled inside my ear," he murmured, quoting the childish poem [1] he used to read to Wanda when she was just a little girl. She'd loved the giant poetry book he'd given her for her fifth birthday, and spent every night learning a new one by heart to recite the following day like a mantra.   
  
Pietro had never been quite so bookish, preferring physical activity to being cooped up all the time. Yet he'd listened gamely whilst his twin read by the secretive light of a torch when they were supposed to be sleeping.   
  
A small smile graced Erik's lips as he fondly remembered sneaking up on them, and hearing the scuffle of bed-sheets as they each buried their heads at his approach and pretended to be fast asleep in the innocent way that only children could.   
  
A shadow fell to his left, and he turned to see Dazzler looking quizzically at him. She opened her mouth, and in the air a few bright letters wrote themselves into life.   
  
Penny for your thoughts?   
  
Erik shook his head, sighing. "Just... memories. That's all. Old, musty memories."   
  
Dazzler looked at the Earth and frowned. She 'spoke' again, her 'speech' bright and glowing in the stagnant air of the transporter[2].   
  
You shouldn't think about them if they hurt. There's trouble behind your eyes.   
  
She gestured, and a dozen tiny white arrows flew from her fingertips to surround her own eyelids. They vanished again seconds later, but her expression remained fixed in place.   
  
"I have to think about them," Erik replied soberly. "Otherwise they fester. I've had too many years of them festering at the back of my head. It's time to let them out - let them breathe again."   
  
Breathe? said the iridescent letters.   
  
Erik nodded. "It's time for lots of things. I just hope I'm not too late..."  
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] 'Whatif' by Shel Silverstein.  
  
[2] Yup, Maggie never got around to designing those oh-so-stylish silver spheres in this reality. Instead, we have a big wokka spacecraft capable of carrying many people at a time, if at a slower pace than the canon means of transportation. 


	31. Hello, Goodbye

A/N ~ Chapter title answerable to the Beatles CD I gave my father last Christmas, which he discovered last Saturday and now insists on playing full volume, all day, every day.  
  
In other news, it's my birthday on Monday. Yes, I turn the big 20, and the wily looks passing between my mother and siblings whenever the day gets mentioned is starting to freak me out just a smidge.  
  
Ambrosia; Yup, that was a joke. Though you're the only one who got it, it seems. Dayum, you just keep coming with the precognition, don't you? Dazzler's powers in this fic (it varies dependant on which universe you look at) are the ability to turn sound into light, and shape light to form words, pictures etc. She's mute, and her control stems from need more than want, after a run-in with anti-mutant mobbers sent her powers into overdrive and effectively made her a human mime.  
  
The Phantom; Shel Silverstein and many others sang me to sleep at night when I was little. It seemed fitting, such a childish piece from such an aged - in all forms of the word - man.   
  
Hootild; Logan shall indeed kick ass. Just give him time.   
  
Ice Princess; Any and all holiday spirit would be good, right now. I'm sick of Politically Correct Christmas - or Winterval, as some bright spark wanted to rename it. Kind of a 'Winter', 'festival' hybrid word, which scares the bejeezus out of me because all my childhood memories of Christmas are taking a dive out the window in favour of carol-free winter concerts and greetings cards featuring a bicycle race. Very festive, I'm sure. If this is the way Christmas is going then I have only one thing to say. Bah humbug. (BTW, in answer to your question, here's a site that explains Bonfire Night much better than I ever could; http://www.bonefire.org/guy/index.php).  
  
Amarth Obstreperous; Mutie Town... well, it's nice and it's not. It all depends on your viewpoint, really. I can't really explain it any better without giving too much away.  
  
Gerri; Mucho Pietro in this chapter for your convenience, babs. As for why he's referred to as 'Brother Time'... well, because here, he's running out of it in a big way.   
  
Ricter; Please don't go? This is really frustrating for me, because my sole argument for convincing you to stay would pretty much ruin a plot point from later on. Pertaining to 'Futures Tense', I'm sorry if it didn't live up to expectations. It's one of the earliest products of the Nutboard, when we were still finding our feet, fiction-wise. The reason I mentioned it with regards to the twins is because each of them is a key player in the text. The focus was meant to be on them individually, not as a pair as such, aside from the part you mentioned. It was just a different interpretation of how their relationship could have gone as compared to 'Judgment Day', was all.   
  
Yodelbean; he stands vindicated, ladies and gents. Punkin' is canon. Thank you. And 'bean - I'm desperate ;)  
  
Silvervine; Your wish is my command. Now where is that bloody wand...?  
  
FrickinEvilPoptart; Can I just say first off that I adore your pseudonym. And thank you for the kind comments - thought the 'bonk' part made me double up with laughter. Where do I reside. Oh, just in Nuendo.  
  
UnknownSource; Rogue will be explained in due course - and she features heavily in this chappie. Many thankies for the lovely comments and analysis. ^_^  
  
Risa; Pissing contest, ha ha ha! And my alliterative skills have not abandoned me, it seems. Ready that fan, girl.   
  
*******************  
  
Thirty-first Fragment ~ Hello, Goodbye  
  
*******************  
  
Kurt sat quivering in a chair that seemed designed to make him feel uncomfortable.   
  
Aside from himself, the only other people in the room were Rogue and the little girl now introduced via Jamie as 'Bairn'. She didn't speak - not ever; but her strange eyes were constantly roving, taking in everything going on around her. She didn't seem like much more than a waif, but the fact that she'd been set to essentially guard the two siblings said more about her than words probably could.   
  
Not that Kurt felt much like starting a fight. His chest ached almost unbearably over his cracked rib, and his breathing was becoming more laboured with every passing hour. Reluctantly, he let go of the legs he'd been clutching to himself and instead settled for twiddling with the tip of his tail.   
  
Rogue sat, doleful and silent in the corner. She'd passed on the chair, and stood with her back pressed against the interlocking walls, eyes trained on the floor.   
  
The room of the building they'd been ushered into not long after arriving was austere and damp, but it had a roof and a door, which stood open, as if daring them to escape. Of Logan there had been no sign when they stepped out of Bairn's portal, and the rest of their group had been swiftly broken up and given over to the 'care' of various members of Mutie Town. The town's hospitality left quite a bit to be desired, but they reminded themselves that the inhabitants were wary because life had taught them to be in order to survive.   
  
All three mutants looked up as a shadow leaked into the room. A figure entered, bustling along on incongruously chubby legs that moved like little pistons beneath the flowery fold of a dress that had obviously been Sunday best at some point.   
  
"Okey dokey," she said in a strange, almost motherly voice that waddled from her lips and drove the tense silence out with a broom. "I'm Layla, the healer. I was told there were people here with injuries, so I popped on over to see what I could do to help."   
  
Kurt's eyes loomed large, like golden pools of light. Layla's pudgy face was graced by a warm smile, and she reminded him of his adoptive mother. Quite suddenly he was hit with a tremendous wave of homesickness, the likes of which he'd never felt since the day the X-Virus decimated the Institute and all hopes of returning to Germany were dashed.   
  
Layla turned at the barely repressed choking sob, features drawing together into a concerned expression. "Oh, you poor things," she said, clicking her tongue and moving forwards towards him and Rogue. "You look all in."   
  
Her hair was wispy and grey, and had been drawn back into a loose bun, speared through with random twigs and sticks obvious picked up off the ground. Her dress was ripped and torn in several places, but had been lovingly darned back to life, and whatever couldn't be mended had been covered with patches of other, rainbow cloth. A tired old cardigan was stretched across her ample bosom, and her feet flopped about in faded leather sandals that buckled at the ankle and left orange rust marks on her bare legs.   
  
Kurt was taken aback at just how much she looked like Astrid Wagner. Only the face was different, and some small part of him was glad of that. To see his adoptive mother now would've been too painful.   
  
Layla's skin was dusty and flushed red, and across her left cheek ran a thin scar like wire where a glass bottle had once caught her. In her hands she carried what appeared to be an old, battered knitting basket, and she set it down on the table - the only other piece of furniture besides a shabby mattress - and began to sort through it, talking all the while.   
  
"I was so surprised to hear that we had visitors. Don't get so many no more, you see. Not for many a moon. Grasshopper don't like 'em usually, unless he's invited 'em himself, but you must be special. He's a good 'un, but life's treated him harsh, so he treats it harsh in return." She turned and knelt by Kurt's side, a piece of cloth and pot of something mushy in her hands. "Hmm, cracked rib. Lift up your shirt, please."   
  
Kurt didn't question how she knew of his hurt, but did as he was bid, exposing a thatch of tousled blue fur. Layla set the pot down and dipped her fingers in it, then rubbed the strange ointment into his side. Kurt was surprised that she touched him without displeasure, and the gloop felt good against his skin as she gently massaged it in.   
  
A stream of words mumbled from Layla's mouth, and she pressed the cloth over him. Around her fingers a faint purple glow crackled to life, and Kurt's insides tingled for a few seconds before she pulled it - and a few blue hairs - away.   
  
"There now. All done. Feel better?"   
  
"J... ja," he replied. And miraculously, he did. The tightness in his chest was gone, and he drew a long, easy breath that flowed into his lungs like silk.   
  
Layla smiled, fat crinkling into pouches like a hamster. "So, good sir, what be your name then?"   
  
"Uh, Kurt. Kurt Wagner. How is the one called Pietro?" he asked, for he had been the one in most need of healing.   
  
Layla sighed. "He'll live, though his wounds were bad. That flatscan actually did a good job of keeping him alive, doncha know. No, he won't die, but some of his wounds may scar. Right little fidgeter, he was. Never wanted to stop still for me to do my job, and went on and on about how he was *supposed* to be hurting, because he was being punished. Poor mite." She shook her head.  
  
Kurt bit his lip, casting a glance at Rogue. That sounded about right for the condition they'd left Pietro in, but somehow, it wasn't any comfort.   
  
"I'm not sure about his ankle," Layla went on. "I've fixed it to a point where he can walk - maybe run if he tries, but not without hurting himself. He simply *wouldn't* let me heal it properly."  
  
  
  
"Oh... uh, what were those words for? I've never heard of a mutant needing words to use their powers before."   
  
"I don't *need* them, good sir. They're just phrases that help me concentrate my powers; a sort of meditative mantra. Things go all awry and messy when I don't concentrate. Once, I got distracted from fixing a cut on Scry's head, and practically all his hair fell out!"  
  
"Oh... who's Scry?"  
  
"A clairvoyant, but his talents extend to more than that. We just don't know no names for the rest of what he does."  
  
Layla smiled again, and dreadful pain constricted Kurt's heart. Never had he wished for his adoptive mother so much. He let his gaze wander to the floor, so that he might lessen the pain somewhat. If he couldn't see her, he couldn't be reminded of Heirelgart...   
  
"Danke for the help," he said softly. "I, um... what next? We've been waiting here for hours, but there's been no word on our companions or what we're supposed to do."  
  
"Well, dearie, that all depends on Grasshopper."   
  
Kurt remembered the strange, insectoid mutant from their arrival. Grasshopper looked like someone who'd seen too much, and hardened his heart to keep his sanity.  
  
Would that they'd all done the same.  
  
Plopping the lid back on her pot of mush, Layla folded the cloth and replaced both in her basket. Then she proceeded to cross the room and bend her knees slightly, looking up into Rogue's down-turned face.   
  
"Wotcher, sweetie. You hurt in any way?"   
  
Rogue didn't answer, but her eyes were strangely cold. Layla blinked, unperturbed, and shrugged her shoulders in her odd, motherly way.   
  
"Ah, well, I guess not then. You want to tell me who you are, at least?"   
  
No answer. Then, "Rogue."   
  
"Bit of an odd name, but who am I to talk, eh? I'm one of the few mutants in this whole town who wanted to keep her own name. Everybody else went in for this whole code thing malarky. But I told, Grasshopper, I told him I was going to keep the name my mother gave me, no matter what he said. And if he wanted a real healer around here, he'd stop badgering me about it. Are you staying with us now? Are you joining the town?" She looked at Kurt. "'Cause if you are, he's going to try the same with you, so you'd either better be prepared to stick to your guns, or have your own title picked out. If you let them choose one for you they'll come up with something violent or strange. No room for feelings in this place. But I don't like it. The only reason I stay is because I can do good here, and - oh, Bairn!"   
  
The reason for her sudden exclamation was quite simple. During the stream of babbling words, Bairn had started to wobble, swaying gently from side to side; until, finally, she toppled over altogether and slid to the floor in an ungainly heap.   
  
Layla rushed to the girl's side. After a few moments checking and flitting to places with her hazy purple fingers, she pronounced that the tiny teleporter was suffering from exhaustion.   
  
"I'll bet Grasshopper made her teleport too much weight again. Ooh, he does annoy me sometimes." Gathering the voiceless child up in her arms, Layla shot Kurt an apologetic glance. "Sorry, dearie, but I'm just going to have to pop out for a second. I'll be back in a jiffy, unless someone else beats me to it. Ha, ha!"   
  
And with that she was gone, pausing only long enough to pick up her knitting basket and then flapping out of the door.   
  
Kurt sat, watching her point of departure. He'd learned more about Mutie Town from listening to Layla for five minutes than by spending several hours in the company of its other inhabitants.   
  
He sat, twiddling his toes and trying hard not to think about Germany and his adoptive family.   
  
Rogue surprised him, then, by jolting up out of her reverie with a sharp hiss. Such was the alacrity of her movement that the unflappable Kurt Wagner very nearly fell off his chair, and peered at her with concern.   
  
"Rogue?"   
  
"Come on," she growled, in a tone quite different to her usual one. "Let's go." She started forward and caught his wrist, dragging him towards the gaping doorway.   
  
"Go? Go where?"   
  
"To find the others, of course. You didn't think I was gonna leave 'em all, did you?"   
  
Kurt blinked, frowning. "But Rogue, we have to wait for - "   
  
"I'm not waitin' for nobody until I know that the others are safe!" she snapped, silencing him with a piercing glare.   
  
Kurt gulped, and for some inexplicable reason a knot of worry started to grind the bottom of his belly.   
  
"Are you comin'?"   
  
Glancing fearfully about, Kurt sighed and allowed himself to be hauled out of the room.  
  
*******************  
  
He sat, a broken boy in a broken room.   
  
He had been placed on a stone throne - or rather, two stone blocks put together to resemble a throne.   
  
The room had once been a church converted into a grand temple, but something - correction, some*one* - had destroyed it. Someone by the name of Wanda.   
  
_...Wanda..._  
  
The healer had come, fixed him up a bit. His body was almost wholly repaired, though scars remained on his skin from the burning and beating. His ankle was also still damaged. He could walk now, but not run so good unless he *really* pushed himself.   
  
For some strange reason, he didn't care in the slightest.   
  
Pietro shifted on the hard, cold stone. Behind him was a pile of rubble, and sat atop it like some horrible gargoyle was the face of a man he'd thought dead, and wished so upon occasion.   
  
Magneto's fierce eyes seemed to bore into his back, accusing, and Pietro had only half listened when Layla waffled on about how he was supposed to be their saviour.  
  
Broken, everything was broken.   
  
A sound caught his attention. He looked up, noticed one of the shadows move.   
  
"Who's there?"  
  
A woman, not much older than his twenty years, detached herself from the gloom. Pietro saw that she carried something in her arms; a bundle of torn cloth and gently moving rags.   
  
"I... I'm sorry sir," she whispered, bowing her head low. "I... I only came to... to see you... and... and to make a request. If I may?"  
  
"What kind of request?"  
  
She moved forward. Pietro saw her nearly skeletal frame, her ragged, unwashed hair, her dirty clothing, and her hollow eyes. She presented the bundle before him like some sort of gift or sacrifice.  
  
"Please..." she stuttered, "bless my child, Windswift? The touch of the Lord of Earth's offspring would surely bring good luck to my little one."  
  
  
  
Pietro looked down, saw the tiny babe swathed in cloth. Tears streaked its dirty face, though it was silent as it stared solemnly up at him, sucking a pudgy little thumb. It was clear where all the food had gone in this family.  
  
Bring good luck?  
  
Lady Luck.  
  
Lady Luck and Brother Time.  
  
Running out of time...  
  
"Sure..." he said at last, though in truth he thought any blessing he gave would become more of a curse. He seemed to curse anyone he came near. "But... you gotta do something for me first."  
  
  
  
The woman blinked, and it hurt to see the enthusiasm in her eyes. "What, mighty Windswift?"  
  
"Do you know... do you know Lance? The one in my group who's gonna be buried?"  
  
She nodded. "Why yes, Grasshopper has promised a funeral to honour him."  
  
  
  
"Well, find his body, and search it as carefully as you can. Clipped to his belt you should find a gun. Don't tell anyone, but bring it to me."  
  
  
  
The woman nodded again, fervent, and scuttled off. Pietro felt a little guilty of using her so. _But,_ he reasoned, _I've done a lot worse, and it's not as if she'll come to any harm because of this._ The idea that she might be punished for aiding and abetting never entered his fractured mind.  
  
  
  
A few moments later, the woman returned, bearing gun as well as babe now. She passed it to Pietro, bowing once again as she did so. If she suspected what he was up to, she gave no sign.   
  
"Thank you," he rasped.   
  
"Will you bless my child, now?"  
  
  
  
Pietro sighed. "Okay, okay, I'll bless your kid. What's his name?"  
  
  
  
"Uh, it's a her. I called her after the other progeny of Magneto, Wanda."  
  
  
  
Pietro blinked, startled; but he nodded. Placing one slender hand on the babe's forehead, he spoke; hoping to whatever God there was that his words would come to pass. "I bless this child, Wanda, that she may grow and live in safety, uh... without fear... without fear of treachery. Or jealousy! And... and that she might always have hope and..." he gulped, "and family."  
  
Not much of a blessing to some, but the best he could think of right now.   
  
"Thank you, Windswift. Thank you!" said the woman, and, taking the child, she hurried away to be reabsorbed by the shadows.  
  
Pietro, once again, was alone.   
  
He was glad. It would make his next action so much simpler.   
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the world at large. "I just can't *do* this anymore. It's too much. It didn't use to be, but now..."  
  
He took Lance's gun and slowly raised it to his own head.   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt and Rogue slunk along the streets of Mutie Town, using their natural abilities or stolen memories of the same to hug the shadows and avoid any unwanted contact with residents passing by. Rogue was insistent they not be spotted, and though a little concerned at the request, Kurt went along with it.   
  
Truth be told, he wanted to know how the others were faring just as much as she did, and the thought of someone forcing them back into that windowless room was altogether unappetising. After all, he was supposed to be some sort of leader, wasn't he? He was supposed to watch out for them.   
  
_Some leader. I let a member of my team die, destroy the mental stability of others and then wish for my Mommy. Pah!_ The thought spiked into his brain, and he found himself questioning it before waving it away again.   
  
Was he fit to be leader? Logan had probably done more that was deserving of the title. At least he hadn't flaked out and let all... all of *this* happen.   
  
So much pain, so much death. Kurt had thought it was over. This journey to Ororo was meant to be a new start. Four years ago they'd destroyed their world; now they were trying to rebuild it, to forget what had happened and make a new life for them and their children.   
  
Their children...  
  
Kurt thought of Hope, now fatherless, and a lump caught in his throat. Lance would never see another dawn, and Hope would never know him at all. And as for poor Kätzchen...   
  
An image of the blind girl, pale and drawn as she woke up and moved through the day like a robot, entered his head. Kitty, despite her blindness, had always seemed strong and bright. It was she who'd gone after Alvin in the desert; it was she who'd appreciated Kurt so for not patronising her on the bus. Now all she did was take care of Hope, eating little and talking less. She'd been completely silent when Grasshopper and his crew led her away, and hadn't even turned back to see what was happening to everyone else. It was like a light had gone out of her life...  
  
_Snuffed out..._   
  
"Here." Rogue's voice, strangely coarse, cut through Kurt's inner reverie and dragged him back to reality.   
  
He blinked, staring up at the side of an old redbrick building, peeling paint just visible on the mouldering windowsill not three feet above his head. He hadn't even realised they'd halted, nor could remember the trip hence. A glance behind revealed that they were in some sort of alley, but he could see no end to it anywhere. Apparently, he'd been too lost in his own head to notice.   
  
"Why've we stopped, Fraulein?"   
  
Rogue gestured up at the window, loosing his wrist as she did so. "In there," she said simply, and moved towards a beaten metal trashcan laid on its side nearby. She dragged it over, taking care not to make too much noise and upturning it so that it wouldn't roll away. Then she clambered up like it had always been there for that purpose.   
  
Kurt watched her face, but her expression was still inscrutable as she looked down and nodded. It seemed some of their teammates were within, and judging by the way she rattled and jimmied the ancient drop-window, there couldn't have been any inhabitants of Mutie Town inside watching them. At least, none that she'd seen, anyway.   
  
Briefly, Kurt wondered how she'd known to look here, but the thought fluttered away in Rogue's grunting and determined eyes.  
  
With much protesting and squeaking, the window eventually opened just enough to permit a body to slide through. Rogue indicated that Kurt, with his better balance and reflexes, would have more luck than she. He obliged, shinning up the wall and crawling through the slat with ease.   
  
It was large enough to allow at least two of him through, he found, and he dropped to the floor on the interior with only the smallest of sounds, catching Rogue easily when she did likewise. Curiously, she didn't seem unduly bothered with the bodily contact, but he told himself it was just because she was wearing enough protective clothing for it not to be a factor.   
  
Holding a finger to her lips, Rogue crept towards yet another door-less doorway, much like the one they'd passed through to escape their own gaol. Not that the people of Mutie Town were keeping them prisoner or anything, but there was an oppressive, almost stifling aura surrounding the place; like that of fear, loathing, and too many memories, all clustered together. Kurt had felt the self-same feeling before, in Bayville, before all the humans there either died or left. He hadn't liked it then, and he didn't like it now. It made him feel trapped somehow. In a prison without bars.   
  
He peered around the doorway, noting that Rogue must have very good eyesight to see through it from the window. Beyond were a trio of beds, each one occupied with a small body. Two of these little figures were sitting up and facing each other, but the third lay swaddled in bedclothes that had seen better days as sacking.   
  
"Daisy? Ariel?" The words were out before he could stop them, and the two upright figures looked towards the door in surprise and alarm that quickly turned to delight.   
  
"Kurti!" Daisy cried, hopping off the bed and rushing towards him. "Rogue!"   
  
Kurt bent down and enveloped her in a happy hug, overjoyed to see the little lizard girl safe and well, save for a bit of dirt on her face.   
  
"Daisy, liebe, are you alright? They didn't hurt you or anything, did they?"   
  
Her tail lashed back and forth like it had a mind of its own. "No, the people here've all been real nice. Keep calling us 'blessed children', whatever that means. Have you see Logan? Is he here, too?" She peered over his shoulder into the gloom, but to her credit her face fell only a little when Kurt had to tell her that no, he hadn't seen Logan, and didn't actually have any idea where he was.   
  
"Oh. Well, that's okay. Logan can take care of hi'sself just fine."   
  
"I know," Kurt replied with a wry smile. Boy, did he know.   
  
Ariel was a little more formal and removed in his greeting, having not known Kurt or Rogue long enough to exhibit the kind of emotion Daisy did. Kurt was friendly, trying to make the boy feel welcome into their midst and noticing that Daisy had been doing a pretty good job of that already - as evidenced by how closely he stuck to her side, and how she felt the need to re-introduce him to them.   
  
Rogue, however, was rather aloof. She nodded to Ariel, and allowed him to shake her gloved hand, but something was amiss about her demeanour. She kept raising her head at odd moments and looking blankly into the distance of the far corner. Dust motes caught her attention intermittently, and Kurt saw that her fingers were twitching, as if they wanted to ball into fists and hit something at any moment.   
  
_Was ist los?_ he wondered to himself, but felt it prudent to leave Rogue's thoughts to herself. Perhaps she'd been closer to Lance than he'd at first thought, and she was still mourning for him. There was still a blackness at the pit of his own stomach, but part of that was due to guilt more than anything else.   
  
Lance hadn't liked Kurt, as he'd shown in so many words; and Kurt hadn't liked Lance as much as he maybe should've. Now the bad feelings he'd inadvertently nurtured tasted bitter, and some irrational part of his psyche played with the idea that Kurt had wanted something like this to happen.   
  
_No, no, that's not true._ He shook his head, chasing the notion away. Daisy looked at him curiously.   
  
"Whatcha shakin' yer head fer?" she asked, ever blunt.   
  
Kurt blinked. "Huh? Oh, nothing. Just thought I had a flea, liebling." He scratched at his ear to support the comment, and flashed her a smile. "That's all."   
  
If Daisy wasn't convinced, then she didn't show it. Instead, she just folded her arms and asked point blank what was going on here, and what was going to happen to them all in Mutie Town from here on in.   
  
Kurt had to admit that he didn't know, and quizzed the young duo about what people had told them since they arrived, and how come there was nobody staying with them at the moment.   
  
"We had a weirdo man," Daisy sniffed, obviously not impressed. "Called hi'sself 'Scry', but he was all flibberty an' stuff. Went all strange and starey just after he tucked the three of us in, then took off to tell that Grasshopper guy summat. Didn't say what, and didn't say when he'd be back. Just upped and left us on our own, which we was until you two got here."   
  
Kurt blinked. "Entschuildigung, three of you? Who else is here?" His stomach did a little flip-flop despite itself, and when Daisy pointed to the third bed with one scaly finger he fairly rushed over to it in a flurry of flailing limbs.   
  
"Robyn, a' course."   
  
Crouching down, Kurt regarded the tufts of brown erupting from beneath the covers and leaking across the tatty pillow. "Robyn? Liebling?"   
  
Nothing. Then, slowly, so slowly that it almost hurt to watch and keep his fingers still, the corner of the blanket pulled back, and one liquid brown eye peeked out. It blinked sleepily at him, refocusing after a few gluey seconds.   
  
"Kurti?" The voice was croaky with disuse and illness, barely above a whisper. Yet to Kurt it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.   
  
"Robyn, you're awake!" He stroked her cheek, not embracing her for fear of doing harm to her frail, spindly body beneath the covers. "How do you feel, Tapferes?"   
  
She coughed, setting off alarm bells again, but her answer set them more at ease. "A lot better now. I'm still all achey, but Layla said that's normal, and I'm very brave."   
  
Layla? It appeared Kurt owed the healer even more thank than he'd realised, since she seemed to have chased the very last of Robyn's sickness away. She'd obviously been very busy before coming to visit he and Rogue.   
  
"Kurti?" Robyn sniffed and struggled to sit up. Kurt saw with joy that her eyes had their old shine back, and were no longer so horribly sunken into her furry little face. "Kurti, I dreamed of you. I dreamed you were upset, and you were having a Sad Time. Are you?"   
  
The childlike innocence of the question threw him for a moment, and when he could answer, he instead simply wrapped her in a carefully tender hug.   
  
Robyn seemed surprised, but patted his back, knowing that even if he was having Sad Time, Kurti was too proud to say it out loud. Even to her. For now, she just contented herself in his arms. It seemed like an age since he'd held her, and he smelled just the same. All Kurt.   
  
"God, Liebling, I've missed you," he murmured.   
  
"Why? I haven't been anywhere."   
  
And for the life of her, Robyn couldn't understand why he laughed.   
  
*******************  
  
Rogue watched them, removed from the happy scene by a few steps. It didn't escape her notice how Ariel covertly took Daisy's hand. Nor the brief flash of fear on her face as she pushed him away again. Evidently, Daisy didn't like that sort of thing, but he stayed close to her nonetheless. Closer than Rogie did, at least. Which wasn't difficult, considering.   
  
She tried, she really did, but somehow the momentous nature of the situation just kept bouncing off her. It was as if she was made of ice, and no matter how many times she tried to thaw herself a little, her exterior remained cold. Unbreakable.   
  
Inside, however, she was in turmoil.   
  
It was as if she were someone else, yet her at the same time. Two Rogues, sealed together into the same body. It was... odd. Not like when she'd absorbed people, yet remarkably similar. When she'd used her powers she'd always been aware of the distinction between herself and the foreign persona. She'd always, at heart, been her.   
  
But this... this was something very different. She thought thoughts that weren't hers, and saw things she couldn't see. Not with her eyes, at least. They came in flashes, bursting into her consciousness and then leaving again with such veracity that she had to question whether they'd been there at all. Lucid, yet dreamlike. Painful, but welcoming and soft.   
  
Yet the oddest thing was that she believed they were her when they were happening. They seemed to mingle with what she was seeing now, imparting themselves wholly, until she wondered if she was really standing here, in this room, or somewhere else entirely. Somewhere large and airy, with cold stone pressed against her back.   
  
Half of her wavered around, flitting back and forth, and she resisted the urge to simply crumble to her knees and cry for it to stop. Her ice-queen mien helped a lot with that. She couldn't be weak. She had to be strong.   
  
Weak, not strong.   
  
Her thought? Or the other Rogue's?   
  
Same, but different.   
  
Was there really another Rogue?   
  
Other-Rogue was cold and alone. So was This-Rogue. Both cold. Both lonely.   
  
Same Rogue?   
  
Other-Rogue wanted company. Special company. Company she couldn't have. So did This-Rogue. This-Rogue wanted something; someone she couldn't ever get back.   
  
Same Rogue?   
  
Gone. All gone.   
  
Old refrain.   
  
New sentiment.   
  
Same person?   
  
All gone.   
  
Same Rogue?   
  
Why should she still be here at all? She didn't do anything right.   
  
All gone.   
  
Couldn't even help when she dropped. Only heard the splash, and then it was too late.   
  
One thought, two minds?   
  
Two thoughts, same mind?   
  
So much sadness. Couldn't help her at all with it. Too late. Not worth it, now. Worthless.   
  
Little child in the room. In the arms of another. Poor thing. Needs love. No love here. Icy.   
  
Ask a question, get an answer. But what if the question is, 'can you bring her back'? Would the answer be the same?   
  
Same mind?   
  
Same Rogue?   
  
All gone.   
  
Better to go. Not be a part of all this anymore. Mutants in arms, arms in mutants. Mind in body, body in mind. Soul in... where was the soul kept, anyway? Stashed away where nobody can get it? On show for the world to see?   
  
People wear their hearts on their sleeves, but where do they wear their souls?   
  
Two souls, two bodies. One bond.   
  
Three souls, three bodies, two bonds.   
  
Two souls, two bodies, two broken bonds.   
  
Where to go? What to do? What to say next?   
  
Gone. All gone.   
  
Maybe she'd go too?   
  
Other-Rogue wanted to leave. So did This-Rogue.   
  
Other-Rogue could go. So simple, so quick.   
  
This-Rogue had only feet.   
  
Gone.   
  
All gone.   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt looked up as Robyn's ears twitched, catching a sound and holding it. He gave her a querying look, and she whispered in her husky voice, "Rogue?"   
  
Kurt blinked. Rogue hadn't said a word, and Robyn's face had been pressed into his shoulder, so any gesture the older girl could've made would've been lost. He surmised that Robyn must had exceptionally good hearing, and turned to see what Rogue had said or done to cause the frown now creasing the little cat-girl's face.   
  
"Hey, Rogue, what're you..." He stopped.  
  
Rogue was gone.  
  
*******************  
  
Slowly, inevitably, Pietro raised the gun until he felt the cold kiss of the barrel against the roof of his mouth. Tears were falling from his eyes now, sobs wracking his thin body.   
  
He might have said something poetic and poignant, but there seemed little point with nobody there to hear it. Plus, talking around the barrel was difficult.  
  
"Pie-Pie?"  
  
  
  
He opened his cold, cold blue eyes.  
  
A single, haunted figure was standing in the doorway to the ruined temple. She moved forward jerkily, like the souls of her feet had been stung.  
  
It was Rogue.   
  
"Please," Pietro rasped around the handgun. "Please... dun' call 'ee 'at... 'oo can'... 'oo can'..." Words failed him, and gave way to soft, wracking sobs that twitched his finger that much closer to the trigger.  
  
  
  
Rogue moved further forwards, her eyes never leaving his broken form. "Put the gun down," she said softly. "Don't do it. It's not what we want."  
  
  
  
"We?"  
  
  
  
No answer. Rogue continued to move forward. When she was only a few feet away from him, she reached up and ripped one of her tattered sleeves off, displaying the tiny line of austere black numbers tattooed on her arm.   
  
"We were together," she murmured, almost to herself. "Me and Wanda, together in the labs. They did things to us - things that mean we're still together... in some ways. You were always with her, Pie-Pie. Even when they had her strapped to the table, you were always there. Just like she's always with you. Just like she's always with me."  
  
"But s'gone," he said, not bothering to fight the tears rolling down his cheeks. Who was there to look tough for, now? Slowly, he pulled the gun out a little further, until it barely rested on his lips and he could speak properly. "All gone. She linked us, and now she's dead. Because of *me*. My fault... all my fault..."  
  
"Shhhh," Rogue hushed him. "But she's still here, Pie-Pie. She's still here, inside of me. Or maybe I'm in her." She blinked, abstracted. "She loved you."   
  
There was silence then, and they were still. Two fleshy statues, carved in loss and grief.   
  
When Pietro spoke again his voice was quiet, low - dark as the deepest pits of despair. "How do you know?" he asked simply. "How do *I* know?"  
  
Rogue took another, careful step forward. Then another. She brought an arm up, the arm with the numbers on it. Slowly, gently, she put it to his face, skimmed his features with her fingers, almost touching the scarred and pale skin with her own.   
  
Pietro brought his own hand up. With skin nearly as pale as Rogue's, he traced the numbers on her arm, not quite touching her, writing the numerals in the air above her flesh.   
  
Rogue brought her hand to his hair, touching the silver strands gently. She followed the contours of his face, as if learning him by heart, and brought a finger so near his cracked lips she could feel his soft breaths. Further down the hand went, past the chin, the throat, to the top of his ragged shirt. Gently, she pushed against his arm, pushing both it and the gun to his side.   
  
She lingered on the top button, then undid it dextrously. Her hand descended further, undoing the next, and the next, and the next. Pale skin only slightly marred met open air, and he watched her with eyes the colour of giants' tears.  
  
Now his shirt was open, displaying his white chest, pale and hairless. Pietro's breathing quickened, but he did nothing, unable to draw himself away from the strange and terrible movements. The gun lay forgotten in his hand.   
  
Rogue's hands continued their eternal journey, moving within his shirt but never touching. She stopped over his heart.  
  
For a moment their eyes met, held in the other's gaze for a time immeasurable. She moved the palm of her hand forward, flat and so close she could feel the soft heat of his skin. So close she could almost feel the super-fast beating of his heart.   
  
Then, with the tenderness of a mother, the passion of a lover, and the compassion of a sister, she touched him.   
  
What passed between them in that second cannot be described by words. It cannot be written down onto crude paper or splayed on a screen. Nobody could ever cage it in useless vowels or obscene sentences. It can only be guessed at and revered.   
  
And then it stopped.   
  
Rogue's hand stayed on Pietro's chest, but the passing of thoughts, dreams and memories ceased.   
  
Their eyes remained fixed on each other.   
  
"Now you know how I know," she said softly, pulling her touch away.   
  
With a groan of agony and ecstasy and all the feelings in between, Pietro fell into her embrace, and she embraced him in return, hugging him tight and not caring about the closeness, the nearness, the pressing against him like a child that couldn't stand on her own two feet.   
  
"Ro-Ro," he cried into her shoulder.   
  
And for the first time in what felt like an age, Rogue was at peace.   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt was looking around for Rogue when part of the window drifted down behind him and whispered "Knock, knock," in his ear.   
  
He whirled away, holding Robyn protectively behind him, and was caught in an agony of indecision as he noticed that the dusty figure that had spoken was interposed between him and the other two children. He balled uncertain fists, but the man just shrugged and stood aside.   
  
"Where do you get off, doing things like that?" Kurt asked waspishly.   
  
"Same as everyone else, I suppose - making people jump makes me feel cleverer than them. Pathetic, really."   
  
"A bit," Kurt agreed savagely, lifting Robyn back to the mattress and setting her down with Ariel and Daisy. "Why are you even here?"   
  
"That's a bit of an inappropriate question, don't you think? This is Mutie Town, and I am a citizen. You are just a guest - and furthermore, a guest who is not supposed to be here in this building."   
  
"A prisoner, you mean."   
  
Another shrug. "It's been said, and would be a more accurate description. Nonetheless, you'd be best to return to the building you were allotted."   
  
"Why? This is my sister, for God's sake!"   
  
"Because Grasshopper said so. And, frankly, I do *not* think that Grasshopper is currently in any mood to be crossed. Moreover, he's coming to talk to you at some point in the near future, so he'll be somewhat displeased to not find you where you're supposed to be."   
  
"Talk? What about?"   
  
"People have been talking, Kur - oops ..."   
  
"What did you just call me?"   
  
"Kuroops. It's a Sanskrit word meaning 'outsider.'"   
  
"Smooth recovery."   
  
"I did my best." He shrugged, not at all remorseful. "Yes, I know your name. I also know that your Rogue has gone off to find the young Maximoff - uh - let go of me, please."   
  
Kurt had grabbed the figure's tatty collar, stretching the already distressed fabric. "How do you know our names?" he asked, not raising his voice.   
  
"Because, frankly, you're all idiots, and don't know when to keep your mouths shut," the man replied, looking like he might be sneering if he thought it worth the effort.   
  
Kurt scowled and pulled him closer. "I don't like being called an idiot."   
  
The man jerked his neck so that his forehead came within an inch of crushing Kurt's nose. Kurt flinched backwards, but did not drop him.   
  
"Don't be one, then," the man said, and knocked Kurt's grasp on his collar loose without trying very hard. "Mutie Town isn't a nice place to be a Kuroops," he grinned. "We're not nice people if you cross us. We can't do very much, but what we can do, we do, and then some. You'd better retrieve Rogue and get back to your building, sharpish." The man looked slightly to one side, and Kurt followed his glance.   
  
"What are you looking at?" he asked, squinting at the chipped and grafitti'd concrete wall.   
  
"Kurt," whispered Daisy, tugging on his trousers, "the freaky man disappeared."   
  
"That's a bad word, liebling," Kurt said absently, looking at where the man had been standing. If he looked just right, he could see where someone had done a bad portrait in spray paint on the wall, long faded.  
  
*******************  
  
The small craft carrying Magneto and his young lieutenants slowly descended to touch the earth a half-mile from the Mississippi Bridge. Inside, Magneto stood beside Dazzler and Wolfsbane, waiting for the ship to finish running its automatic diagnostics before opening the door.   
  
Peter sat on the edge of his bed, fully outfitted in his Spider suit except for the mask. He held it in his hands and hung his head. He suddenly had a bad feeling about this whole mission. It was a feeling that had nothing to do with his spider sense. When the doors opened, Magneto and the girls would expect him to walk out onto the same Earth he used to be on with Aunt May and Flash and Harry and... and Mary-Jane.   
  
Now, for the first time, he would have to walk it alone, with strangers.   
  
It had been easy on Asteroid M not to think about all those he had lost. After all, he was just a little lost boy flying out in space on a giant rock - the stuff movies are made of. But now... now he would have to face the reality, and he wasn't sure he could take it.   
  
Magneto scarcely noticed Spider Man step into place behind them, but acknowledged the masked youth with a nod when turning to greet the sight before them. The doors had opened, and the four weary travellers looked upon what had once been their home world for the first time in far too long.   
  
"Pietro. Wanda. I've come home. I've come to make it right."   
  
It was scarcely more than a whisper, dampened even further by Dazzler's proximity, but all of them heard it. All of them were thinking similar thoughts.   
  
As the group walked out into the sunlight, they could feel a lingering crackle of electricity in the air, a faint hum of power. Wolfsbane's lips curled back into an instinctive growl - this didn't feel natural.   
  
Spider-Man quickly spun around to check behind him - his spider sense was going haywire. Dazzler shifted from one foot to the other, her feet making no sound on the gravel of what was left of the road leading to the bridge.   
  
Magneto only smiled, his hair and cape blowing softly behind him in the breeze. "She's nearby, or was recently. Spread out and find her, then report back to me."   
  
No-one had to ask who 'she' was, so they spread out.  
  
Dazzler walked a ways down toward the bridge, following Spider-Man's quick pace. Wolfsbane dropped to all fours and began sniffing around, trying to catch a scent.   
  
Dazzler caught up to Spider-Man as he was staring down at the wreckage of a jeep. No bodies were visible, but it was clear there had been a struggle, probably involving mutants.   
  
Is everything okay?   
  
The letters floated lazily past Spider-Man, and he turned to face her. "Yeah, I'll... I'm fine. Let's keep looking, she's probably around here somewhere."   
  
Dazzler nodded and wandered off in the direction of the bridge, while Spider-Man inspected the area around the ruined jeep for any signs of how many people might have been involved in the battle.   
  
By and by, Magneto and Wolfsbane came to join him, after inspecting a few other scarred patches of land.   
  
"What have you found, Spider-Man? Anything useful?" Magneto asked, a glint in his eye that Peter had never seen before.   
  
"Just this jeep, really. There was a fight, but you guys noticed that too. Looks like a lot of people involved, but..." Peter's voice trailed off, proverbial ears pricking. Something was wrong.   
  
Wolfsbane cocked an ear of her own, suddenly silent. She could sense it too. It caused an unconscious growl to ripple across her lip, exposing some fang and not a little gum.  
  
Dazzler was being quiet.   
  
She was always silent, but for the first time since they had met the girl there were no light motes dancing around, no soft glow to certain objects, no sudden, unasked-for bursts of colour around them. Nothing.   
  
Quickly, Peter caught sight of her looking over the edge of the bridge, one hand covering her mouth as tears rolled down her cheeks.   
  
The trio ran to her side and peered wordlessly at what she was looking at.   
  
Amidst a pile of sharp rocks, a torn and broken body lay. Nearby lily pads floated on the water, spelling out a final message from the girl's last bit of power.   
  
Goodbye, Pietro.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
******************* 


	32. Onset

A/N ~ I really truly wanted to call this chapter 'Return of the King'. It just fitted, especially with the timing, but the cliché factor eventually beat me back. With a stick. That had a nail in the end.  
  
Thanks to all for the birthday wishes. I had a great one – my mother indulged my childish side and set up a family gathering (we're a small, insular bunch – not a cousin to my name) with a Disney theme. Tres cool. Ben and Jerry's Phish Food plus a bunch of gift-wrapped Essential X-Men comics in front of the fire. Mmmm, life just doesn't get any better than that.   
  
Silvervine; Nope, Daddy ain't happy at all. Not one little bit.   
  
Ice Princess; Christmas – a real point of contention for anyone I talk to. What's the big problem with it? Yeesh. I won't bore people with my views on the matter, but even so, I'm frustrated with the world in general on that topic. A propos Bonfire Night, I didn't have a Guy myself. My back garden borders on a bird sanctuary, so fireworks in general are a bit of a no-no. Sparklers are fun to play with, though.   
  
Ambrosia; Unteen. I like that word. Yes, I am an unteen. As for doing childish things to feel young again, my mentality never really grew into my teens in the first place, so I doubt that'll be a problem. Gaga… snerkle.   
  
Amarth Obstreperous; Robyn has been out of it for a while, hasn't she? Ah well, all sorted now.   
  
The Phantom; Spectacular spectacular, and words in the vernacular… hee hee. Rogue shall be explained in due course. We're not quite finished with her and her complexities, yet, and there's a skeleton or two that has to come out of the closet before the end.   
  
Draganess; Actually, Rogue and Pietro are less a romantic couple, more a set of consolation siblings – hence the Wanda factor, and the rechristening as 'Ro-Ro'. And don't worry about the fan-girl issue. It happens to the best of us. *Picks up Acme Net* Shhh, be vewy vewy quiet. I'm hunting elves.   
  
Gerri; 'Hmm... okay, from that little exchange between Rogue and Pietro, I'm guessing that what you're trying to say is that at some point in that research centre, Rogue touched Wanda, is that right?' Maybe. Maybe not. Like I told Phantom, there are things about Rogue that have not yet been broached. Important, pivotal things. And that's all I'm going to tell you.   
  
UnknownSource; Eep! We only just met Layla, and already you've got her lined up for the chopping block. Oh well, c'est la vie, I suppose.   
  
Yma; 'How much effort did you put into this again?' Um, quite a bit. 'When will you be posting the next bit?' Now-ish. Ooh, look at that. There's some below these notes. Well, whaddya know?  
  
Ricter; Thanks for sticking around. I appreciate it. But as I told Draganess, this isn't a Rietro. Rogue and Pietro are supposed to be kind of consolation siblings rather than an actual romantic couple. Wanda is an up-in-the-air character. Watch this space. Hopefully, the angst should level off a bit, soon.  
  
Doublekidz; I'm on an Author Alert list! Woo-hoo!  
  
*******************  
  
Thirty-second Fragment ~ Onset  
  
*******************  
  
No.   
  
Just no.   
  
Nonononononononononnononononononononono...   
  
"*NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!*"  
  
Magneto's howl, a scream of agony, despair, rage, and grief, shook the very air. He fell over, unable to keep his feet, staring at the corpse; his little girl, his baby.   
  
And he cried.   
  
He had just found her, just learned that they could be reunited, only to have lost her in the same heartbeat. Lost his little girl *again*!   
  
His fault. All his fault. He had abandoned her so long ago. Why would she be waiting for him now? He should *never* have... never have...   
  
The pain made it too hard to think.   
  
Calm down. Think... think... think of how to make things better, make things right.   
  
How could he have lost her so soon?   
  
All his fault, all his fault...   
  
But he hadn't landed the final blow, had he?  
  
No.   
  
Who had done this?   
  
Pietro was there, he had detected his presence on Cerebro II, and Wanda had written his name. They had met. They would be together.   
  
Then why had no-one found his body also?   
  
Had he escaped?   
  
No, Pietro would never leave his sister, never abandon her. Such a thing would have been tantamount to murder. His son was a slacker, and could be a nuisance, but he wasn't a killer.  
  
Unless   
  
Unless... unless...   
  
Betrayal, the poisoned knife that bit into the heart.   
  
Pietro had betrayed Wanda.   
  
Brother had betrayed sister.   
  
Son had betrayed daughter.   
  
His children.   
  
Et Tu Pietro?[1]  
  
What next? Revenge? Eye for eye, tooth for tooth?  
  
Son or no son, Pietro must pay for this... this outrage.   
  
Only right. Only justice.   
  
Yes. Find him, learn where he had gone. Then go after him, and all those that had aided him, all those that defended him. There were others here, all the evidence pointed to it. They must have helped him. Must have... helped...  
  
Helped him kill his sister. Drown her, and leave her corpse her for the crows to peck at.  
  
Kill them all, then. Then time to grieve. Then come back here and bury bodies.   
  
"S...sir?"  
  
He heard Spider-Man's voice behind him. His wails of grief must have startled the boy and the two girls.  
  
  
  
When he rose and faced them, his expression was a strange, cold mask of fury. His rage amplified his power. Crackles of electromagnetic energy sparking around him, and he seemed to glow.   
  
"We have to leave," he said softly. "Contact Hank. Tell him to use Cerebro II to ascertain Quicksilver's current position."  
  
  
  
"Th... then what?" asked Peter, though it was clear that in his heart he knew what the Master of Magnetism would say. Erik knew it was patent in his own mad eyes.   
  
Grief could do things to a person's judgment, make them consider and do things they wouldn't usually even entertain in the right frame of mind.   
  
"Then the father must kill the son to avenge the daughter."  
  
*******************  
  
Rogue was rocking Pietro's head back and forth in the cradle of her shoulder when Kurt found her. Pietro was sobbing quietly and brokenly, and Rogue was shushing him, sounding like she was sobbing herself.   
  
Kurt approached them with trepidation. "Rogue?" he ventured in a whisper, reaching uncertainly for her and eliciting no response. He shook her shoulder, the one not being used as a pillow.   
  
"What?" she croaked, thick with tears.   
  
"We need to move, Rogue," Kurt said, the urgency in his voice failing him the longer he saw the two of them clutching each other, anchoring each other to the ground. "Grasshopper's looking for us."   
  
"Don't care," she snuffled, sullying, Kurt noted wryly, Pietro's otherwise meticulously maintained hair a little more. Still, her tears were making the last vestiges of blood not quite so red...  
  
"You have to," he urged, pulling experimentally on the shoulder he'd kept his hand on.   
  
Rogue didn't say anything, just sighed and slowly shifted her face against Pietro's head. They were both calming now, and edging towards an easy silence.   
  
"Rogue," Kurt repeated, more urgently.   
  
She remained silent.   
  
Kurt rocked back on his heels and watched the two of them subside into each other, their breathing impossible to distinguish. "If we're not where we're supposed to be," he said carefully, "There'll be trouble."   
  
"Let there be trouble," Rogue said carelessly, exhaling the words in a single exhausted breath. Pietro mumbled something to her, and she just smoothed a hand over his scalp.   
  
Kurt rallied his patience for one last sally forth. "I can't let there be trouble," he explained, maintaining a reasonable facade. "Trouble means we don't get out of Mutie Town."   
  
"Oh," she said with disinterest.   
  
Somebody clattered noisily, and with a distinct lack of coordination, outside the door of the Temple. Kurt winced and tried to look inconspicuous. Rogue and Pietro, fortuitously, already looked like a pile of dirty rags.   
  
"Come *on *, Rogue," he hissed, checking warily over his shoulder.   
  
"Don't wanna," she muttered.   
  
"If," Kurt snapped, "we are not back in the building we should be when Grasshopper comes to check on us, then he'll come looking for us. He has our sister, Rogue. Have you seen him? Do you trust him with Robyn?"   
  
"... No," she said reluctantly.   
  
"Come on, then," he said, appeasing, reaching out his hand.   
  
Pietro looked up at her then in mute appeal. She hesitated, looking down at him, and faltered.   
  
Kurt heard another drunkard outside, and grabbed Rogue's hand before it could fall back down.   
  
Pietro found himself holding on to nothing but a noisome stench and the afterimages of a yellow glare of light. He began to weep again.   
  
*******************  
  
Rogue had jerked angrily out of Kurt's grasp as soon as they had appeared in the house in which they had been sequestered. She stalked over to the unwashed mattress and lay down, wriggling her shoulders until she was comfortable and then pointedly facing away from him. Kurt, too tired to really protest his innocence, sighed and jumped up on to the table, taking up his habitual crouch.   
  
The leg of the table creaked threateningly, and he moved over to the uncomfortable chair with reluctance. _Even the furniture is against me,_ he thought with black humour.   
  
Bairn, fortunately, had not returned to her post.   
  
Kurt had nothing to do. Sleep was precluded by Rogue's sullen occupation of the sole mattress, and there was nothing of any interest in the room. There wasn't even any grafitti, a sure sign, he thought, of final despair. Or possibly illiteracy. He couldn't be sure. In any case, the end result was the same: boredom.   
  
It was incredible, Kurt reflected, that after all they had been through since Bayville, after all the blood and tears, that the thing that most grated against him now was the lack of activity. He'd been looking forward to doing nothing for weeks, and now he had the chance to - well, it was absolutely stultifying.   
  
He composed dirty limericks in German and English, then immediately forgot them. He put all the Beatles albums in order, chronologically, alphabetically, by length, by how much he enjoyed them and so on until he started to seriously consider eating his own face off for a change of pace. Before he could resort to such drastic action, luckily, Grasshopper arrived.   
  
"Kurt, yes?" he said briefly, walking into the room unannounced. Kurt had been rocking back and forth on the chair, and was taken by surprise.   
  
"Hmm? Oh. Yes. I'm Kurt."   
  
"Good, good. You're the one leading this little band of yours?"   
  
Two short men with crumpled faces edged around either of Grasshopper's shoulders and stood guard impatiently.   
  
"Well, I wouldn't quite say leading," Kurt began, eyeing the muscle warily. "We don't really follow any one per - "   
  
"Don't fuck me around, boy. I don't have the time."   
  
"Um. Yes."   
  
"Lovely. I need to talk to you."   
  
"What about Rogue?"   
  
"Bubbles and Redeye will look after her, don't worry."   
  
Rogue had fallen asleep, and was unable to contest the award of her stewardship. Bubbles, whose skin was a deathly grey, had a grin of hot, wet needles. Redeye[2], slightly the taller, looked impassive. Livid red skin slashed viciously down across both his white eyes in the shape of a tattered banner.   
  
"Don't worry," Grasshopper assured Kurt in a bored tone, seeing his discomfort. "They're more than capable. Come along."   
  
Kurt obliged grudgingly, hopping off the chair and slouching over to the door. Grasshopper stood aside in a parody of etiquette, and closed the door behind them as they left the building. They walked out into the more or less abandoned streets of Mutie Town, picking their way through broken asphalt and the empty shells of cars, headed nowhere in particular. An uneasy silence passed between the two.   
  
"Do you know," asked Grasshopper suddenly, once they had reached the end of the second block they were walking down, "how Mutie Town is governed? We have a council, of which I am nominally in charge. In reality, I'm only there to make sure that what they decree gets done. To cut to the chase, Kurt, your life is in their hands. Or rather, it was. They've decided not to let you leave Mutie Town for the time being, I'm afraid."   
  
Kurt was taken aback by the Grasshopper's abrupt mode of speech, and his tail twitched unconsciously with the artificial cadence of it. "Until when?" he asked, once he had run through what he had just learned.   
  
"Until they see fit to change their minds. The council are rather an inflexible bunch, so there isn't really much chance of getting them to change aforesaid minds, though I am due for a meeting with them at some point."   
  
"You can't be serious," Kurt said quietly, appalled.   
  
Grasshopper snorted. "I'm always serious. It's one of the perks of this job."   
  
"We have to get to the west coast," Kurt protested weakly.   
  
"You don't anymore," Grasshopper shrugged. "You can live just fine here."   
  
"Why won't you let us go?"   
  
"Not me, them. And I don't know. Like I say, I'm just here to do what the council tells me."   
  
"But we've got Pietro," Kurt argued, "Magneto's son. Don't you worship him or something?"   
  
Grasshopper snorted again. "Magneto, yes, a lot of people do. Same for Pietro. But seriously, Kurt, you can't use him in your favour. He's a blubbering idiot. You saw him this afternoon."   
  
"Uh... what?"   
  
Grasshopper took Kurt's discomfiture in stride. "I know you and that girl - Rogue? Kitty?"   
  
"Rogue."   
  
"Rogue, right. I know she went to visit him at the Temple after you went to find your sister. Or daughter, or whatever you call her. Rather touching, I thought, being reunited with the little furball like that. The same with her and Pietro. I know that you went to fetch her afterwards, so I know that you've seen the state he's in. He's a suicidal mess. Anything that he says, anything he asks of the council could be immediately discredited."   
  
Kurt stumbled for words.   
  
Grasshopper smirked, and said, "A little Sneaoops told me."   
  
"Bastard," Kurt snarled suddenly, rounding sharply on Grasshopper. "You can't hold us here, and you had no right to spy on us like that!" He threw a wild punch, which glanced off Grasshopper's carapace.   
  
Grasshopper didn't seem to notice the blow at all, but simply buried one fist heavily into Kurt's gut. Kurt collapsed with astonishing rapidity, black bleeding into the corners of his vision. Grasshopper nonchalantly took a seat on a large chunk of upturned concrete beside him, and waited for him to regain his breath.   
  
"Bastard," Kurt choked out again, when he could spare the breath for speech. Grasshopper looked down on him with something bordering on contempt, then looked away.   
  
Suddenly, bitterly, he said "Do you know what I used to do before the virus, Kurt? I used to teach children to play the piano."   
  
"You?" Kurt asked through gritted teeth, beginning to regain his breath.   
  
"You wouldn't have thought it, would you?" agreed Grasshopper, raising all four hands to make his point. "But Des Moines was fairly open-minded about such things. So long as I didn't draw much attention to myself, I was all right. The extra fingers were a useful bonus, of course."   
  
"Of course," Kurt said, pulling himself to his feet heavily. As soon as he got back to those feet, however, still gasping, he sat back down on the ground beside Grasshopper's lump of concrete, feeling foolish.   
  
"What about you?"   
  
"I was a foreign exchange student in New York State. A little town called Bayville. You may have heard of it."   
  
Grasshopper looked down at him with narrowed eyes. "I guess that makes you the Bayville Demon, then."   
  
"Lucky me."   
  
"Lucky you," he agreed. "Don't let it become common knowledge, though. The Bayville Demon isn't too popular in these parts."   
  
"Great. Another thing to look out for."   
  
They sat in silence for another few minutes. "So what does life in Mutie Town entail?" Kurt asked.   
  
"For you? Nothing. Find a job if you want something to do. Otherwise, find food and clothes. You can take any house you want that no-one's living in, but most of the desirable ones are taken already. Just like being unemployed, basically, but without social security."   
  
"And how does that stop us leaving town?"   
  
"Teeps. The council's full of the bastards. Bastards," Grasshopper concluded succinctly.   
  
"Not all of them," Kurt protested, thinking of Jean Grey and the Professor.   
  
"All the ones I know, anyway."  
  
"Is there some way to appeal to the council?"   
  
"Yeah. Through me. It isn't going to work, let me assure you."   
  
"There's no way of getting out?"   
  
"Short of starting some kind of bloody insurrection, probably not. And you don't look like the type to inspire an insurrection, I'm afraid."   
  
Kurt grinned sharply. "I started a civil war just by going out in public. Don't be too sure."   
  
"I think I'm fairly confident that you won't manage it," said Grasshopper. "Anyway, time to take you back to your humble abode. You're in it for the night, then we take you to meet the rest of your little gang and toss you out in the streets in the morning. Personally, I'm rather looking forward to it."   
  
"I love you, too."   
  
Grasshopper just laughed hollowly, and then helped Kurt to his feet. "Come on. This is the way back."   
  
*******************  
  
"Have fun, all," Bubbles drawled, as they were escorted out of the warehouse that stood in for Mutie Town's prison. For some inexplicable reason, it was where Grasshopper had chosen for them all to meet up after a night spent in separate houses, and made for a strange, cold reception with its bars and individual cages.  
  
Bubbles drew to a halt, hustling the hastily regrouped party out onto the street. "Your bus is impounded somewhere. It got towed last night. Where, I dunno, but it's prob'ly been scavenged by now anyways. Have a look if you want," he said carelessly, then closed and locked the door.   
  
Kurt and his makeshift band of survivors and misfits stood in the dusty street, completely directionless and staring at the closed aperture.   
  
Raven was the first to talk. "I guess we should look for the bus, then," she suggested.   
  
Kurt nodded curtly [3] and stalked off down the street. The rest started to straggle after him.   
  
Kitty, with Hope, and Rogue took up the rear of the parade. Rogue rested her hand gently on Kitty's elbow to guide her. Neither of them said anything.   
  
The three children played and chattered around Raven and Alvin, who were discussing their situation in hushed and sombre tones. Logan was walking with a swift, business-like stride and rapidly pulling abreast of Kurt, presumably to talk to him.   
  
Pietro had been left in the Temple. Some of them hadn't even seen him, yet. They hadn't been allowed.  
  
"That's your considered opinion of the situation, then, is it?" Alvin was asking Raven, amused.   
  
"Yep," she agreed. "Absolutely fubar. Pardon my language, but we are utterly, utterly screwed. Still, guess we'd better make the most of it, no? There's got to be some way of worming our way out. There always is. Believe me, I'm an expert."   
  
Daisy tugged at Raven's sleeve. "What's fubar?"   
  
"It's a very bad word," Alvin began, but Raven interrupted him.   
  
"It means fucked up beyond all recognition, see? F-U-B-A-R, that's the initials."   
  
Alvin spluttered briefly, but subsided when Raven cast a sideways glance, in both a literal and figurative sense, at him.   
  
"I know that," Daisy said proudly. "Logan taught me to *spell*."   
  
"Did he now?" Alvin said grimly.   
  
"Yep," she agreed, grinning. "Logan's a good dad. Better'n my real one, anyway."   
  
"Everyone's got to be good at something," he said caustically, before looking away, ashamed.   
  
Daisy looked puzzled, but Raven just ruffled her hair. "Alvin's just being an old maid, Daisy. Go on and have fun, okay?"   
  
"Okay," she giggled, and skipped away to where Alvin and Robyn were playing some form of tag; Ariel had taken to playing like a fish to water. [4]  
  
Once they were out of earshot, Alvin looked at Raven with narrowed eyes, until she snickered at his serious face and asked him what the matter was.   
  
"I am *not* an old maid."   
  
Raven cracked up in laughter. "Oh, you *so* are."   
  
"Are not," he sniffed with dignity.   
  
"Are too."   
  
"Are not."   
  
"Are too..."   
  
"Those two're gettin' pretty cosy," Rogue commented to Kitty from their position as the token stragglers.   
  
Kitty shrugged noncommittally. "Could be," she said eventually, adjusting Hope on her arm.   
  
"An' Logan an' Kurt are way ahead of 'em," Rogue continued, "tryin' to out-manly-man each other. Looks like it's gonna be a fine ol' lifetime in Des Moines, the mutant paradise."   
  
Kitty sighed. "Do you really think that's the way it's going to be, Rogue? Do you think we *are* going to be here for a lifetime?"   
  
Rogue shrugged. "Certainly looks that way. I can't see no way out."   
  
Kitty sighed again. "Where'd we go wrong, Rogue?"   
  
A smirk - although the effect was obviously lost on its intended audience. "Gettin' born mutants was our first mistake, I reckon. After that, the rest of it just came natural."   
  
Kitty snorted, and her lips twisted into a thin smile. "If I'd known this was going to happen ahead of time, I'd have opted for different parents."   
  
Rogue echoed the sentiments with a brief giggle. "Damn straight," she agreed. Her grin faded from her face. "You wouldn't have met Lance, then, probably. Or had Hope."   
  
The sunglasses hid Kitty closing her eyes. "I guess not," she agreed quietly. "But..."   
  
"But what?"   
  
"You know but what. I can't help but think that maybe... maybe it would have been better if I hadn't been a mutant, even if I never met Lance."   
  
"'Speak nought but good of the dead,'" Rogue quoted, and then immediately regretted it.   
  
Kitty grimaced and pulled away slightly. "Well, it's a pointless discussion now. He's dead, and we're stuck here."   
  
"Aw, here, Kitty, I didn't mean anyth -"   
  
"I know you didn't." There was a long pause. Kurt and Logan had stopped to have an animated disagreement in the road ahead, and the rest of them were slowly catching up. "It's just," she continued suddenly, her breath jerking in her throat, "I don't know I'll ever find anyone as good as... as..." She cut herself off with a hiccoughing sob.   
  
Rogue wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and was glad Kitty couldn't see how the sudden closeness affected her. "Hey, there," she offered. "Hush, now."   
  
Hope started to wail as Kitty's tears dripped, one by one, onto her tiny face and shirt.   
  
"I miss him," she said after a moment, in between wracking sobs and long sniffs. "God help me, he could be a primo jerk, and was jealous as hell, but I miss him so much... He never *did* anything to anybody. He could, but he never did. Even when people threatened us, all he did was turn around and get us out of there instead of fighting."  
  
"Because he cared," Rogue soothed, wincing under the sudden onslaught of emotion. "He was... a good guy."  
  
Kitty exhaled, and wiped at her nose with her sleeve. "Perhaps that's what I should have written on his marker. That Grasshopper guy said Lance could... could have a place in the old churchyard here, next to their old priestess."  
  
Rogue held her close, and gently soothed both mother and child as they emptied their tears onto her. "Lance Alvers, good guy and father. Like it?"  
  
Kitty nodded.   
  
"Feel better now?"  
  
"Not really. But... I'll get there. Slowly. Heck, I got over leaving both my parents *and* my old life in the same day, not to mention losing my sight that week. I can... I'll survive. I'll live."  
  
"An' that's your gift, girl. That's what Lance went out doin' - protectin' life."  
  
Kitty straightened up, though her cheeks were still wet. "Lance Alvers," she intoned after a moment, "Good guy, father, and protector of life."  
  
Rogue nodded, and returned her hand to the younger girl's elbow. "Nice choice. Classy."  
  
*******************  
  
The group of mutants eventually found their bus on the outskirts of Mutie Town. It had indeed been gutted, and all of Forge's work had vanished, to be taken apart by other hands and used over, no doubt. Yet some supplies remained and, more importantly...   
  
"Clive!"  
  
The two girls went to their puppy and hugged it, whilst Kurt looked on wearily, remembering all the trouble that little dog had caused. He didn't go near, and snapped a quick warning to the children not to let themselves be licked, which was met by groans, but compliance. The leash tying Clive to the upstairs seats had been completely chewed through, telling how she'd escaped becoming food for the hungry scavengers.  
  
As one, they proceeded to search their erstwhile home, taking anything useful they could find - which was precious little.  
  
At noontime, with the light of the sun beating down upon their backs, they paused for a rest.   
  
It was whilst they were sitting around, discussing their future plans, that Robyn noticed something.   
  
"Kurti," she drawled, the sun on her fur making her drowsy. "Kurti, what's that?"  
  
  
  
She pointed with a claw to the horizon and, looking carefully, Kurt made out a small dot, like a bird or a plane. It was flying through the air, and after a time he realised it was flying towards Mutie Town, and getting bigger the nearer it got.   
  
*******************  
  
Magneto piloted the ship with a strength and passion the others could hardly believe.   
  
Hank had used Cerebro II to find Pietro's location, though it had taken many hours due to the excessive amounts of energy needed to power up the machine without totally draining that which powered Asteroid M. The call had come in just a little while ago, startling them all into sudden wakefulness in the noon sun as they received Hank's message.  
  
Pietro was in a small place called Mutie Town, not a few miles from their current location.  
  
  
  
"But boss," said Wolfsbane, "Those people are mutants... our kind..."  
  
"And they won't be punished overly," assured Magneto, his voice odd. "Only the son must die. As long as they don't protect him they'll be spared."  
  
Spider-Man shivered at this proclamation, but said nothing. What could he do, after all? Besides, surely a man had the right to avenge against those who had harmed his family, right?   
  
No, no that wasn't right. This entire situation was certainly nothing to do with 'right,' and Peter knew that the dark, dull feeling of wrongness would only grow the closer they got to the cluster of ruins and shacks that was Mutie Town.   
  
But Magneto was so much more powerful than any of them. Probably than all of them put together. How could he go against the older man's desire to kill without becoming the victim himself?  
  
*******************  
  
The mutants outside of what had once been Des Moines, Iowa, gasped in surprise as the strange, flat, circular craft easily stopped in mid-air. It reminded them far too much of Star Wars' Millennium Falcon, save for the two huge engines glued to its spine. These same engines glowed with heat, but no sound was forthcoming. The craft was oddly silent.   
  
A few scattered yells brought out the rest of Mutie Town to witness this spectacle.   
  
The craft hovered for a few moments more, then a hatch opened. A soft hum filled the air, but before anyone could move an electro-magnetic pulse wave knocked the entire populace running to the outskirts to their knees.   
  
Magneto, herald of the coming age, slowly levitated to the ground with his three Acolytes.   
  
A handful of figures, just outside the range of the force, drew themselves up from the ground. They staggered forward, leaving his halo of power until they were able to at least stand without it being a strain.  
  
Magneto's mouth pressed into a thin line, not impressed with this resistance. "I have come for my son," he said in a calm voice. "Do not get in my way."   
  
The handful did not move. One took a step forward.   
  
{SNIKT}  
  
"Magneto. So what if we do, bub?"   
  
"An entire metal skeleton, and you defy me?" Magneto's cold eyes fell upon his three companions. "And you stand with him? I am not amused."   
  
Exhibiting extreme resilience and strength, someone shouldered his way upright from the masses, staggering forward to where the force was no so great. A buzzing of concealed wings, and Grasshopper spoke. "The Council does not take well to intruders."   
  
"We will not abandon our family so easily," spat out something blue and fuzzy, elf-like in shape.   
  
"The Goddess' Will be done," prayed another quietly, stepping forward to join the line of four fighters, while the others clustered around a group of children.   
  
Magneto's Acolytes moved to stand beside him, and the others lined up, facing off against them like the last line of defence in some overblown war movie in the Old World.   
  
"A Wolverine, the Bayville Demon, an insect, and a human? These are my son's protectors?" Magneto laughed; a cold, cruel sound. He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. At the signal, his Acolytes surged forward.   
  
Magnus Rex had returned to claim his throne.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Paraphrased from Shakespeare's _Julius Caesar_.  
  
[2] Bubbles and Redeye are meant to be Wildchild and Wildside, respectively. But I've always wanted to call Wildchild Bubbles.  
  
[3] I've resisted saying this for so long, so please let me off just this once.  
  
[4] Okay, forgive me again. 


	33. Battle

A/N ~ Happy New Year, everyone. And woo for unimaginative titles.   
  
Hootild; Cool Spidey shiznet, at your service.  
  
Ice Princess; Fear for Pietro. Fear for him. Mwahahahaaa…  
  
FrickinEvilPoptart; Uh… wotcher. Yeah. Pyetro? Not really my thing, but different floats for different boats. And just for the record… FUBAR!  
  
Gerri; 'But still, I suppose, in his defence... a man and his grief aren't easily parted.' How very, very true.  
  
UnknownSource; Author Alert! Woot! And yes, Grasshopper holds a special place in my heart, too. It's steel-lined, though. I need that heart to… y'know, survive and stuff.  
  
The Son of Logan and Ororo; Des Moines – c'est tres bien. Glad we got that one right.   
  
The Phantom; Long live LoTR! And I hope you like the little bit of spotlight Alvin gets in this chapter. It made me laugh when I saw it.  
  
Nessie6; Not so picky, darlin'. We all have our preferences. It's our prerogative as fanwriters. Magneto needs a Prozac tab. Badly.  
  
Amarth Obstreperous; Word jokes ahoy. Little Spidey humour in here, to boot. And some answers to those questions of yours, I hope.  
  
Yma; I think you're thinking of Yodelbean and/or Id(sunki). Greg never wrote JD, but he commented throughout. I miss him T^T.   
  
Cheesy Monkey; Happy little monkey indeed. You're worse for character deaths than *I* am. And who knows, maybe some of the other canon characters will put in appearances. Stranger things have been known to happen. Especially in this fic.   
  
sPoOkZ13412; Thank you. Short but sweet. ^_^  
  
*******************  
  
Thirty-third Fragment ~ Battle  
  
*******************  
  
Peter chose his target carefully. The short hairy guy looked mean, and Wolfsbane had already picked him out as hers. The insect, for some unfathomable reason, seemed determined to attack Magneto.   
  
_Perhaps some sort of leadership thing. They seem to both have an Alpha Male deal going on…_  
  
Dazzler had decided to go for the human, which left him the blue, furry... well, whatever it was made Gonzo from the Muppets look *normal*.   
  
Peter leaped towards his target, sending a length of webbing spinning away, meaning to catch the creature off guard. He failed. The blue-furred monstrosity gave an impressive back flip, flying clear of the webbing. It landed on one of the walls and stuck there just as well as he could.   
  
Then it leaped towards him, fangs bared, and Peter was forced to duck hurriedly to avoid being tackled. He succeeded, the blue monster flying over him and landing smoothly a few meters away.   
  
"What the hell *are* you!" Peter cried. "Some sort of goblin?[1]"   
  
The blue goblin creature seemed to grin at this. Or grimace. Peter wasn't sure which. At least his face wasn't quite so savage as the mask Osborne had worn when parading as the green variety.   
  
Then it leaped again.   
  
This was going to be *hard*!   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt was thinking much the same. It seemed as if he and the guy in the gaudy red and blue suit had compatible powers. So much so that, despite best efforts on both sides, it seemed that neither could actually win in a tussle.   
  
As he dodged another of line of what appeared to be super-strength *silly string*, Kurt went over the points in his mind, trying to think up some strategy and trying to work out their respective strengths. And weaknesses.  
  
In his favour, he seemed to have superior fighting skill, was better trained - _Thank you Logan!_ - and could, in a pinch, teleport.   
  
Yet the gaudy dude had that web stuff, seemed stronger, and had more stamina. Plus, Kurt doubted he'd been starving, chased by hunters, and beaten pulpy by a deranged witch recently.  
  
The stamina was the key, he figured. Kurt hadn't had a good, full, proper meal in a long, long, long time. His body had adapted to live on less food than it used to, but he was still on low amounts of energy. If this *did* turn into a battle of stamina – which, given their equality in other aspects, it could well do - then he was sure to lose.  
  
  
  
Which meant he needed to take his opponent down quickly.  
  
Besides, the comments he was making were beginning to annoy him.   
  
"Come on Gobs," Gaudy-Dude jeered. "Why so blue? Aren't you enjoying our little dance?"  
  
"If you call this dancing," Kurt shot back, "then you need to learn some new steps. Here, let me show you - "  
  
He aimed a flying kick, and for a moment he thought he had him. However, at the last second the arachnid ducked, and sent a plume of white webbing spinning forth. Kurt couldn't move fast enough, and was caught by some of it. It wasn't enough to immobilise him entirely, but it made movement all the more difficult.   
  
"Looks like you're in a sticky situation there," Gaudy-Dude joked.  
  
  
  
"For that pun alone you deserve to get your butt whupped!" Kurt spat, and made a snap decision. It was a risk, it'd probably take him out of the fight for good, but it had to be done.   
  
Concentrating hard, he teleported.   
  
*******************  
  
Peter's eyes widened in shock. One moment the goblin had been there, the next it was gone!   
  
_What the hell...?_  
  
Suddenly his spider-sense went into overdrive. Yet, before he could do anything, it was too late. You can't react to what you can't see.  
  
The goblin reappeared right on top of him, fists balled. Both arms came crashing down on Peter's head, pounding him again and again until the rush of pain and adrenaline was lost to the darkness of unconsciousness.   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt sighed and collapsed on top of the guy in the outfit that would've screamed kitsch four years ago. His nose was bleeding severely, his joints ached, and his head throbbed. He never should have teleported on such low energy reserves, but he'd had little choice.   
  
He strove to remain awake, and succeeded, but he knew that until he had recovered a bit he could not aid any of his friends in their battles as he'd so planned.   
  
Left with little other option, Kurt began to pray they did better than he.  
  
*******************  
  
"So," Logan muttered to Grasshopper, as they strode towards Magneto and Wolfsbane, "we got a plan?"   
  
Grasshopper didn't even look round. "You gotta be kidding me," he replied, still watching their opponents warily.   
  
Logan stopped walking suddenly in mid-stride, with one foot still poised in the air, and Wolfsbane grinned viciously.   
  
"Logan, I really, truly despise you, and ordinarily I wouldn't even dream of asking you this," Grasshopper began, murmuring rapidly and slowing down so as not to get too far ahead, "but I'm about to get fricasseed by a man who is, technically, my lord and saviour and all other kinds of babble, so I would appreciate if you would - hlk..."   
  
Magneto had both hands outstretched, using one as a focus to hold Logan in place, and the other using Grasshopper's necklace to strangle him.   
  
Logan had his eyes screwed shut and his lips drawn back, evidently in great pain but unable to open his jaw. Blood started to drip from those parts of him where his skeleton was close to the skin - his knuckles, his elbows, his cheekbones. A red line started to soak through his trousers at the shin.   
  
Grasshopper fell heavily into a crouch, grappling at his neck with three hands.   
  
Wolfsbane began to stride towards them purposefully.   
  
Grasshopper gave up on trying to breathe and jumped. From his crouch, he was easily able to clear her, and his second bound took him behind the distracted Magneto. He hooked one arm around the man's neck and took his legs out from under him, forcing him to release his hold on Logan.   
  
Grasshopper's enhanced strength and extra limbs gave him an unassailable advantage as they grappled, and he soon had Magneto in a nelson hold.   
  
"You know," he commented, grunting, "your devout worshippers are going to kill me for this."   
  
Magneto's eyes rolled back in his head, and Grasshopper's necklace again pulled on his neck, jerking him sideways and sending him flying to land unceremoniously in the dust a few feet away.   
  
"Worshippers?" The words were incredulous and unbelieving. Obviously Magneto thought Grasshopper's talk the babble of a doomed man. "Don't worry about that," he growled, getting to his feet. "I'm -"   
  
"- Going to save them the trouble, yes, yes, I watched that episode of Star Trek," Grasshopper retorted, having rolled into a crouch. His secondary set of hands reached up behind his back and snapped the thin silver chain that held the necklace in place, and then rubbed his throat. He didn't bruise, but he was certainly going to feel that come morning.   
  
Magneto sneered and made a grand, sweeping gesture with both arms. Grasshopper was assailed with debris from all sides - hubcaps, unidentifiable pieces of machinery, bottle tops, a few razorblades.   
  
In reply, he simply shut his eyes and walked forwards. Most of it just bounced off his exoskeleton. A few of the sharper things pierced it shallowly, ichor oozing around the cuts. Grasshopper ignored it.   
  
Magneto did not relent in his battering, and did not show any sign of panic as it showed no sign of even slowing Grasshopper's approach. Just before Grasshopper reached him, he floated up into the air.   
  
"Oh no, you fuckin' don't," Grasshopper growled, and leaped up after him, grabbing firmly onto the man's knees and pulling himself up.   
  
Magneto tried to dislodge his grip, but Grasshopper easily batted his attempts away and continued climbing up until he once again had wrapped his arm around Magneto's neck. The older man began to choke, and grabbed at Grasshopper's unyielding arm ineffectively.   
  
"For a saviour," Grasshopper panted into Magneto's ear through gritted teeth, "you sure shit on your chosen people an awful lot."   
  
Magneto grimaced fiercely, and the pair suddenly shot up into the air at great velocity. Grasshopper's hold on his neck started to slip, but he hung on with fatalistic determination.   
  
Once they were a couple of thousand feet up, the sudden drop in pressure and temperature leaving them both gasping for air, Magneto let go, and they fell. They hovered for a second, before both started to plummet, and Grasshopper's grip slid loose even more.   
  
That was enough for Magneto, who twisted around and kicked free of the stranglehold, then slowed his own descent.   
  
Grasshopper continued falling unchecked.   
  
*******************  
  
Logan saw Kurt fall, but couldn't do anything to assuage the protective urge rising inside him, for the short and simple reason that he was a little busy.   
  
There wasn't a word to describe the thing he was fighting. It was female, at any rate, but looked like the evil grandchild of the Wolfman. On steroids. With her rather spindly limbs and the obvious age deficit between them, he'd assumed the fight would be over quickly. A few quick slashes, a punch or two to take her out without killing her, perhaps.   
  
He'd assumed wrong.   
  
The wolfgirl was swift but deadly, hugging the ground with her belly and snaking towards him on all fours before he had time to blink. Logan barely had time to get clear before she leapt, claws aiming to tear out his midriff.   
  
And what claws they were. Honed and long, they seemed to be extensions of her fingers rather than too-long nails. One glance and Logan popped the adamantium counterparts on his other hand without hesitation.   
  
She snarled and leapt again, deftly avoiding his calculated slash with a handspring Elf would've been proud of, then barrelling forward to butt him in his solar plexus. Her skull may not have been made from the ultimate metal, but it was still pretty damn hard, and Logan's lungs whooshed as the air was driven from them.   
  
Yet, if she expected the move to take him down she was sorely mistaken. _The many pros of healing factor,_ he thought grimly, chancing a step backwards and letting her gain ground before thrusting his left claws out and taking a chunk from her shoulder.   
  
The wolfgirl screamed; a wild, feral sound that put him in mind of an injured Sabertooth. For a moment Logan was back in battle with his arch nemesis, despite knowing full well that Creed had died long ago from a combination of X-Virus and a mob beating him to a pulp while he was down and still healing from the former. He saw the familiar claws and fangs, heard the roar of fury and rage that simultaneously raised his hackles and made him smile.   
  
Then he snapped back to the present, fending off another close-quarters assault by the bleeding wolfgirl.   
  
As opposed to making her back off, her injury only seemed to make her even more eager to fight, and she drove at him full tilt with an array of combat moves and wild slashes that flickered from style to style so fast it would've made any lesser fighter dizzy.   
  
But not Logan. He'd fought the Hand before, and they were the best. Better than the best. No way some punk kid was going to succeed where they'd failed so many times to kill him.   
  
Unlike many fighters, Logan knew the value in backing off to gain an advantage. Many were the rookies he'd seen press and press and press, only to be toppled by a simple move their constant attacking had made them too blind to see. So it was that, after delivering a swift uppercut that sent the wolfgirl reeling, he turned and pelted towards the abandoned bus.   
  
In seconds she was after him, snarling, and Logan smirked to himself. _That's it, mutt. Follow me._   
  
He hopped on board, dashing down the aisle and taking the stairs to the second deck two at a time.   
  
The girl paused at the entrance, obviously cautious about walking into a trap. The bus was Logan's turf; he knew it and she didn't. She sniffed around, pacing for several minutes and kicking up a cloud of dust in frustration.   
  
{CRASH}   
  
{THUNK}   
  
She whipped around as something heavy struck the ground mere inches from her hind leg. It appeared to be a seat, torn loose from its place and thrown clean through the window, with not so much intent on hurting her as just plain getting her attention.   
  
She looked up, and, sure enough, Logan grinned down like a gargoyle. The shards of smashed window framed his face, and he openly leaned on them, nonchalantly letting them knife the undersides of his arms until streaks of blood tracked down the side of the bus. She goggled, and he smirked again, picking out the pieces and letting her watch as the cuts and gashes healed themselves.   
  
"Whassamatter, mutt? Too scared to come up an' face me?"   
  
"No," she spat, in a voice like cracking bones.   
  
"Yer a fool, then."   
  
Her eyes blazed, and she snarled. But still, she did not enter the bus.   
  
Logan frowned, especially when she spoke again.   
  
"If you're so sure of yourself, then why don't you come back down here and face *me*?"   
  
"I got bored. Yer too easy to beat."   
  
A faint quirk of the lip, but nothing more. She actually sat down and yawned. Not exactly the response he'd been going for.   
  
"That sounds like a bluff to me, old man. I know what you're up to. Magneto trained us all, and trained us well. I know how to spot a trap at fifty paces, and you couldn't make this one any clearer if you posted a neon sign." Her smirk mirrored his own, and Logan frowned.   
  
"So. Looks like a stalemate, then."   
  
"Hardly," she snorted, rising and turning towards the cluster of mutants positioned just beyond the line of fighting. "If you won't face me, then I'll just have to tear the rest of your party to pieces instead." Then she took off at a run, arrowing towards where Raven, Kitty and Rogue stood in a protective huddle over the children.   
  
Logan loosed a savage cry, and with it he felt his wilder instincts pushing to be freed. He beat them back down again, clinging to his human side. Now was not the time for him to turn into a beast.   
  
Knowing that a leap from the window would incur broken bones and extended healing, he instead chose the stairs again. Yet this cost him precious seconds, and by the time he ran out of the door the wolfgirl was nearing the kids.   
  
"Raven! Duck and cover!" he yelled, and was rewarded with the shapeshifter throwing herself across the others, shoving them to the ground and out of harm's way.   
  
Kitty reached out, keeping one arm around Hope, and grasped Daisy's hand, saying something that made all of them hold onto what they could of each other. Their outlines seemed to shimmer for a second, and when the wolfgirl leapt she passed straight through them at a gallop. She whirled in surprise, but before she had time to launch another assault Logan had reached them, and he tackled her with all speed.   
  
The pair hit the earth with a solid, meaty 'whump', rolling several yards until a pile of bricks that had once been a wall prevented them going any further.   
  
The wolfgirl reached around and scored deep scratches down Logan's back, making him grunt with pain. But he didn't let up his hold on her, instead tightening his arms, trying to squeeze her into submission. Yet when she dug her talons deep and ripped out chunks he was forced to relinquish his hold, and the two of them backed off, breathing hard and surveying each other.   
  
"You're good," Logan said between breaths.   
  
"Shut up and fight me," she snapped, but made no move to attack again. Her chest heaved, and the fur that protected very little of her decency was slick with sweat.   
  
"What's yer name?"   
  
She blinked, obviously not expecting the question. "Rah- Wolfsbane."   
  
"Poison. Might've known." Logan shook his head.   
  
"Hey, fuck you, Pops."   
  
"I don't do that sorta thing to kids. 'Specially not measly little things like you."   
  
"If you're trying to bait me, it won't work," she said, raising her head and regarding him with a critical eye. "But since we're getting so pally-pally, mind telling me who you are?"   
  
_She's playing for time, trying to get her breath back,_ Logan thought wryly. _I can live with that._ "Surprised ya don't already know it. Most other folks seem to. Logan or Wolverine. Pick one._   
  
She blanched, if only for a second, and Logan knew in that instant that his reputation preceded him. Good or bad, the hesitation gave him the opening he needed, and he thrust forward, claws outstretched and feet going like pistons.   
  
Wolfsbane side-stepped, like he'd known she would, and he compensated, landing a slice along her side that splattered a good amount of red onto the ground without being a fatal wound. She screeched, outraged at him getting a hit in, and Logan suddenly found himself tripped by the short stubby thing she counted as a tail.   
  
Pain erupted in his shoulder blades, warm liquid slinking out and over his back. He smelled blood, both hers and his own, and the feral side of him shrieked to be released. Almost as loudly as Wolfsbane was shrieking on his spine as she sent gobs of bloody flesh and leather jacket flying into the air.   
  
Logan tried to throw her off, but she planted a foot either side of his body, trapping him with her knees and a strength akin to his own. He couldn't turn over, and flailed his claws backwards with every new wet rip she took out of his hide.   
  
_How the *hell* did she turn this to her advantage? She goes any deeper and she'll reach my spine. I'm good, but I can't come back quick enough if she damages *that*._ His bones were adamantium, but his nerve endings and blood vessels were not. And she was giving him no time to heal.  
  
Wolfsbane seemed to know it, too, because she renewed her efforts with added vigour, and Logan howled with pain as she reopened all wounds his healing factor sought to mend, each time faster than it could knit him back together.   
  
She was *killing* him, however much his pride didn't want to admit it.  
  
"HIIIIEEE-YAAAH!" Something flew overhead, and abruptly the weight atop his back was gone.   
  
Logan's body didn't register the loss for a moment, and it wasn't until his exceptional hearing caught the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and then the solid and satisfying whack of a body on the ground that he realised what was going on.   
  
He turned his head at the flurry of movement to his left, and saw what appeared to be a large purple monster akin to the Alien pick up a struggling Wolfsbane and hurl her against the floor. It happened several times, gouts of blood spurting from the wolfgirl's snout as her face connected again and again with the ground, cheekbones almost certainly crushed and claws leaving helpless furrows in the dirt.   
  
Finally, she ceased struggling, and the monster flung her away like so much unwanted garbage. Dead or alive was uncertain, but Wolfsbane landed in a claret-ridden heap and didn't get up.   
  
The monster advanced, purple armour giving way to blue skin as Raven knelt by Logan's side.   
  
"Logan?" There was a slight tremor to her voice he'd never heard before, and he realised with a start that she was actually worried for him. Him, the 'unkillable' mutant. Although, he had to admit, his condition didn't exactly inspire much confidence in his continued living, and he quirked a wry smile in her direction to let her know he was still inhabiting his body.   
  
"That could've gone better."   
  
"You'd better believe it, buster." Relief washed over the shapeshifter's features, and she shucked her coat, throwing it over his back to disguise the terrible wounds, lest Daisy or one of the other children catch sight of them past Rogue and Kitty's shielding arms. Seeing their most invulnerable guardian half torn to shreds wasn't something they needed at that age.   
  
Logan grunted gratefully, eyes shifting to take in the ongoing battles around them. Their small moment of peace seemed incongruous, but he was concentrating too much on not tossing his cookies with pain to dwell overmuch on it.   
  
A shaft of light near to the bus caught his eye, and he saw the words 'I don't want to fight you, flatscan' appear as glowing letters in the air. A splash of movement ripped his eyes from the strangeness of it, as Grasshopper flew past on unshelled wings, pursued by a floating Magneto, resplendent as always in his billowing cape.   
  
Raven followed his gaze, speaking as she did so. "And people say women are the weaker sex."   
  
"Never again, Blue. Never again."   
  
*******************  
  
Alvin glared ferociously and lifted his fists, as he'd seen in the movies long ago. He let out a shout, which, due to his proximity to Dazzler, became a series of sparkling squiggles and blots.   
  
Casting about helplessly, the silent mutant took a step forward and slapped her untried adversary across the cheek.   
  
Alvin ducked belatedly to the side. He then launched into a series of actions which he believed to be ducking and weaving, but which were later described by observers as sloppy head-banging, drunken wobbling, and some kind of odd tic, variously.   
  
Dazzler crouched low, sweeping out one leg and causing the robed man to take an unexpected seat. He was clearly feeling the effects of age as he lumbered back to his feet.   
  
He balled a fist again, swinging weakly in his foe's general direction before aborting the effort. He tried again, and then dropped his hands with a sigh. The words 'I can't hit a lady' glowed in the air beside them.   
  
'I can't fight a norm' appeared as the previous statement faded.   
  
There was a moment of mutual staring.   
  
Alvin's mouth moved again. 'You stand in the way of all that is good and right. I was taught to oppose evil. Morality must come before courtesy.'   
  
Dazzler was still reading the last sentence when a fist connected with her gut. A hubcap, snatched up from the liberally littered ground, whanged noiselessly across the back of her head.   
  
Dropping the impromptu weapon, Alvin knelt beside the unconscious girl. "Goddess, forgive me for my act of violence. May this misguided woman turn to your path of joy and healing. Amen."   
  
*******************  
  
_Just a bit further,_ Magneto thought. His cape billowed behind him as he chased the irritating insect.   
  
He raised an arm and gestured quickly to the left. Grasshopper, expecting a magnetic pull, overcompensated to his right and flew off-balance when the force never came.   
  
Magneto allowed a small smile to grace his lips as he gathered a small bit of energy to fling the lesser mutant into the wall of a nearby building, hearing a satisfied crack resound off his chitinous plate.   
  
Grasshopper sucked in a scream as he hit the wall - hard. He could feel the exoskeleton on his back broken and bleeding through, as he slid down the brickwork to the ground. He tried to push himself up, but was only rewarded with a shooting pain from his legs up to his spine.   
  
He realized with a start he had lost Magneto's location a moment before something solid struck him, and all went black.   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt staggered over towards Raven and Logan, holding his head as tendrils of strength returned to his aching muscles. He felt weak and dizzy, but the all-encompassing urge to help his teammates far outweighed personal weakness, and he toiled on.   
  
Then there was something in front of him - something furry and brown. For a second he thought it was Robyn, and dropped into a fearful crouch beside it.  
  
"Liebling?"  
  
One savage amber eye flickered open, pupil cold and hard.   
  
_Not Robyn,_ Kurt thought, jumping backwards and wobbling slightly.  
  
The bundle twitched, grimaced, and pushed itself up on bloodied arms. Thick red coated her face, and she licked at it, spitting out several broken teeth that gleamed dully in the dirt. They were all impossibly sharp, and Kurt stared at them for a second before the creature snarled and made a drunken lunge.  
  
"What the – hey!" he cried, slipping out of her grasp.  
  
"C'mere," she slurred, and another tooth bit the ground minus herself. "Magneto say kill 'nyone who tried t' defen' hisson. Pitooey!" Bye bye canine number whatever. "'At's you. Good a target as 'nother."  
  
_Wunderbar,_ Kurt thought dryly, taking in her readied claws and steely eyes.   
  
He broke and ran, hearing her drop to all fours in pursuit and running up a wall in hopes of escape and counter-attack.   
  
*******************  
  
"Wake up."   
  
He struggled to open his eyes, and a vision with green eyes and flame red hair danced into focus in front of him.   
  
"Wha... who?"   
  
"C'mon, Tiger, get up. You're not done yet, are you?"   
  
Peter sat up with a groan and rubbed his head. "MJ? MJ, is that you?" He looked up to find her fading into the distance, laughter tinkling after her.   
  
"MJ!"   
  
He awoke more fully with a start, battle once again renewed around him. Magneto, the man with the claws, and a blue-skinned woman seemed to be in the middle of a strange stare-down. The flatsc... human seemed to be treating Dazzler's wounds, and the strange blue... goblin ... thing was leading Wolfsbane on a merry chase.   
  
Everyone was injured in some way, except Magneto. He had a strained look on his face that had nothing to do with his opponents in front of him, and everything to do with the rest of the town's populace being held down magnetically, unable to interfere. Of the four-armed insectoid mutant, there was no sign.   
  
"Spider-Man!" Magneto shouted. "Take care of these two. I have more important matters to deal with."   
  
Peter nodded and shook his head to clear it. He was still dizzy, he probably had a concussion and... he was suddenly in front of the two, trading insults with them?   
  
"So Magneto's sending a child to deal with us? The old man's gone senile," hissed the blue woman.   
  
"I may not be as old as you two, but I was trained by the best there is, and you aren't it," he said defiantly.   
  
"Bub," said the man, taking a step forward, "I'm the best there is, and what I do ain't pretty."   
  
Inwardly, Peter gulped. He really needed to have a word with his subconscious about provoking blade-wielding psychopaths while he wasn't paying attention. Spider-Man, however, crouched into a defensive stance, hoping his webs would slow one or the other down.   
  
He knew he'd have to go on the attack quickly. The world was spinning in front of his eyes; he doubted he'd be that good at ducking or dodging for a while, so he had to hope that his first few blows would bring his adversaries down.   
  
Hah, yeah right.   
  
He sent twin cords of webbing spinning towards them. The woman leaped away, but the hairy man, hindered by his back injury, wasn't quite fast enough and caught some on his arm.   
  
For a moment Peter dared hope he had an advantage, but the man just growled, unsheathed metal claws from his knuckles, and with a hearty 'snikt' cut though the strong webbing like it was butter.   
  
_Imagine what fun those blades would have with flesh,_ Peter's treacherous subconscious prodded.  
  
He barely had time to ponder this before the woman charged at him, changing shape into some sort of horned purple monstrosity. Peter managed to dive out of the way, but was still caught by one of her spikes. It ripped though his costume, drawing blood from his side.   
  
The sudden sensation of pain seemed to clear his head somewhat, and the renewed rush of adrenaline allowed him to dodge the other blows from the two psychopaths, albeit sloppily. Still, things weren't looking good. For anyone. At least he wasn't alone in being butt-whupped by the people they'd come to whup the butts of.  
  
*******************  
  
Kurt leaped, ricocheted off the side of the bus and flipped with near-unmatched agility over Wolfsbane's head. He saw her start to turn, but she was still groggy from her tussle with Raven and the split-second she wasted was the one he took advantage of, stretching out a foot and letting the momentum of his jump send it crashing into her shoulder. She cried out in pain and went down.   
  
Kurt landed, stumbled, and clapped a hand to his own head. For a moment the world spun, and some small part of his brain told him that, had this been the old Danger Room, the sim would've stopped for his injuries to be treated by now. As it was, he'd been forced to fight doggedly on despite his own weakness.   
  
He almost smirked at the terminology his brain chose to use. Still, at least his opponent seemed to be injured too. That was always a plus when you weren't feeling on top of the world yourself. Logan had always taught him to turn the enemy's weakness into your own strength, and it was a lesson Kurt recalled with perfect clarity now.   
  
A sudden childish scream split the air, and Kurt's blood ran cold. Taking his eyes from Wolfsbane, he whipped his head around to see Magneto hovering not three feet from the children. Kitty was shielding them with her body, while Rogue stood in front, a look of intense concentration etching her features. It looked for all the world like a standoff between her and the Master of Magnetism - except Rogue had nothing to fight with, and certainly posed no threat to him unless he floated within touching distance.   
  
A feral growl snapped Kurt back to his situation, and he turned just in time to take Wolfsbane's leap, diverting the energy she used to execute it by rolling backwards and jamming his feet against her exposed belly. She flew over as he cut into a perfect backward tumble, and the two of them sprang up almost in unison.   
  
"You're good," she said grudgingly. "For a wee imp."  
  
He didn't answer.   
  
"You'll still lose. Lose and die."   
  
"We'll see."  
  
*******************  
  
"Rogue, what're you *doing*?"   
  
Kitty was aghast, but dared not leave her post protecting the three cowering kids and baby. She heard the sounds of battle, but her blindness prevented her from knowing exactly what was going on around them.   
  
Rogue was heedless of her cries, and stared coldly up at Magneto. It was beyond Kitty why he'd stopped at all, since he seemed pretty intent on getting past them to Mutie Town. Certainly he could just float right over them. They posed no threat, as compared to the others, and *they* were all otherwise engaged.   
  
Yet stop he had, very abruptly, as if caught by some invisible lasso. Before she could be halted, Rogue had left their protective knot, striding forward as if to face him in battle. She hadn't said a word, but he'd raised an eyebrow at her. It wasn't a particularly nice sight, as anyone would later testify.   
  
Thus, now they watched each other like circling tigers, minus the circling. Rogue's expression could only be described as strained, as if she were exerting a great amount of effort at something, yet she didn't move a muscle. Even blinking was suspended in that eternal moment of locked eyes and odd gazes.   
  
"Your parlour tricks won't work with me, child," Magneto said at last, and tapped the side of his helmet. "Charles taught me how to shield myself from such attacks long ago, and you are no Charles Xavier."   
  
Rogue's frown deepened, but the beginnings of a smile quirked her dark lips. "Who said I was tryin' to be?"   
  
For a second he looked surprised. Evidently, this wasn't the answer he was expecting, and the eyebrow shot up again.   
  
Right before he rocketed backwards, as if hit by a great force. He tumbled head over heels through the air, then brought himself up sharply. In the centre of his chest armour was a large dent.   
  
Rogue smiled again, her breathing quickened ever-so-slightly. Beads of sweat had formed on her brow. "Figures you'd wear metal, don't it?"   
  
Kitty cocked her head at the voices, not truly understanding what was going on. Beyond, she could hear Raven, who, in an undefined monster guise peppered with horns and ugly bony protrusions obviously designed to inflict pain and maximum damage, was doing battle with the one called Spider-Man. Logan was getting a few licks in here and there where he could. Yet he moved jerkily, and seemed to be protecting his back more than taking his more usual offensive tack.   
  
Daisy clung to her, watching as a flash of blue flecked the broken landscape when Kurt and Wolfsbane clashed once more, until a resounding clang gashed the atmosphere around them wide open.   
  
The very air seemed to freeze as Magneto went spinning again, this time touching down on the ground and sliding a few metres before coming to a halt. Clouds of dust billowed up around him, and he glowered, another large dent now gracing the side of his helmet.   
  
"How dare you!" he boomed. "How *dare* you!"   
  
Rogue altered her pose, spreading her feet a little wider and clenching her fists. "I dare like this!" And then she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking visibly and *pushing* with all her might.   
  
Magneto threw up his hands, bracing himself against the vaguely discernable shockwave that swept towards him. Thus it was that, while still sent skidding backwards, he maintained his feet.   
  
Not so Rogue. She fell to her knees, panting and streaked with sweat of exertion.   
  
Kitty heard her fall and started forward, then remembered the children and stopped. She was caught between the two needy parties, and bit her lip until blow flowed as she turned sightlessly toward each.   
  
Though she couldn't see it, the three kids looked up at her with frightened eyes, and Robyn sniffed openly. They were so vulnerable, yet Rogue mirrored the need for protection just as much. Whatever she was doing to fight Magneto, it was taking so much out of her she could barely stay upright. Kitty wasn't especially well versed in the ways of fighting, but she knew that going down was definitely a Very Bad Thing.   
  
_But what can I do?_ Never had she felt so helpless, so unutterable *useless* in all her life - including the time before turned blind. _Shield them,_ the pragmatic part of her brain told her. _Rogue knows more about fighting than you do. The kids need you._   
  
She took a step backwards and fumbled for Daisy's hand again, calling up her own power to make them all intangible. The children linked arms as they had done before, but watched in misery as Rogue struggled and failed to get to her feet.   
  
Magneto walked. He could've flown, but instead he walked, and when Rogue attempted to blow him backwards again, her weakened control over the blast allowed him to brush it off relatively easily.   
  
Upon reaching her, he laid gloved hands on her shoulders and hoisted her high into the air.   
  
"You knew you couldn't hope to beat me," he said in a strangely calm voice. "So why try?"   
  
Rogue gasped with a mixture of pain and need for oxygen. "...Children..." she managed to get out, sucking in sweet lungfuls. "...Protect..."   
  
"So you'd let them watch you and your companions die?"   
  
"They're my... my family... y'bastard," she gritted, drawing her legs back and kicking him squarely on his breastplate.   
  
"That tickled." There was a new spark in his eyes at the mention of the word 'family'. Something akin to sadness and grief, yet tinged with anger and the indomitable urge for vengeance.   
  
Rogue recognised it. She'd seen it enough at the lab, in the eyes of the specimens before they had their spirits broken. Her heart contracted once on instinct, but trying to manipulate the forces she had been had left her drained to the point of exhaustion, and she hung limply in his iron grip.   
  
"One last question," Magneto said, and went on when she didn't answer. He seemed in no hurry, which was disconcerting in itself, and not a little worrisome. "How is it you're able to use my own powers against me? I'm fully aware of who you are, child, and what you're capable of. Your mother kept her secrets well, but not *that* well. I know that you need to touch to steal."   
  
Rogue dredged up enough energy for a small smirk. "It's called evolution, bucket-head. You should look it up sometime."   
  
Magneto curled his lip and made as if to fling her aside like so much unwanted garbage.   
  
Daisy cried out, and Robyn did likewise, though not for exactly the same reason.   
  
Wolfsbane, escaped from Kurt and with the elf in hot pursuit, had come running to aid her leader. She bounded on legs bruised and bleeding in hundreds of places, leaving a splashy trail of blood in the sand and dirt. Her eyes were wild, rimmed with bloodlust, and when she perceived the true nature of the situation she transferred her attention to the nearest available targets instead.   
  
It would have been fine. With Kitty using her powers, no harm would've been done, and Kurt would've gotten there in time to intercept Wolfsbane's next move before she had time to execute it.   
  
It all happened so fast. One second Wolfsbane was bearing down on the untidy huddle, claws and teeth flashing. The next a tiny bundle of the same had leapt from behind Robyn's legs, snapping at the mutant and sending her off balance in mid-flight. Wolfsbane, not expecting the miniscule attack, lashed out. Her accuracy was true, despite her injuries, and Clive went spinning off, split from throat to tail, to land in a crumpled heap not three metres distant.   
  
Robyn screamed.   
  
Kurt howled in anger, slamming into Wolfsbane's side without a thought for his hurts. His tail snaked forward of its own accord, wrapping itself around her throat and tightening with a force he'd never used before.   
  
Her eyes bulged, she scratched scores in it, but he didn't let go.   
  
"No, Kurti! No!" Robyn wept, and tried to break away from Ariel's grip. "Kurti, *no*!"  
  
*******************  
  
He was alone with the echoes. Alone with himself. It was a bit like being alone with dead people; only you heard hollow reflections of yourself rather than saw them.   
  
Were those echoes really him? Himself? His voice singing, sobbing? Or were they something else? Were they his sister, singing with him? Was she still here? Was she just sleeping? Was he sleeping and having nightmares? Having her nightmares for her?  
  
Something was wrong.   
  
A certain tang in the air alerted him, a sound to those hollow echoes, a certain tincture to the sky seen thought broken stone.   
  
Something was wrong.   
  
Pietro moved off his stone throne. Every muscle ached still. His ankle felt unbearably sore, especially; but he needed to find out what was wrong, needed to find Wa... Ro... oh, what to call her? He needed to find *her* anyway, tell her that something was wrong. Different. Off. She'd know what to do. Both of her always knew what to do.  
  
  
  
He took up a broken and splintered beam of wood, leftover from the repairs, and, using it as a staff, he hobbled outside. Strangely, no guards tried to stop him this time, as they had done the last time he went looking for her.  
  
The guards were gone.  
  
The streets were empty.   
  
_Why?_ he wondered. Shouldn't there be singing or dancing at his emergence back into the light? Shouldn't there be wailing and crying at what his return meant for their other Child of the Messiah? Shouldn't people be screaming and attacking him? He deserved all those things and more. Probably all at once. With ice-cream, too!   
  
As he stumbled alone he became aware that something was very, very wrong out here, too. The people were gone, and vague chuntering filled the air the further he went.  
  
He strained his eyes and, in the distance, saw the fight.   
  
He saw his father, holding Rogue like a rag doll, then flinging her to the ground like so much trash.   
  
Pietro wasn't sure of much. The world was a tangled muddle, full of shadows and ghosts and images of things and people past. He didn't know precisely who he was anymore - wasn't sure who Rogue was either. But he knew that she was now the closest thing to a sister he had.   
  
Knew that she was the closest thing to Wanda he would ever have.   
  
Knew that he wouldn't fail her as he had Wanda.   
  
A scream rent itself from his chest. Discarding his stick, ignoring the agony in his ankle, he rushed forward.   
  
A few moments previous, the magnetic shield would have prevented him from reaching them, but Rogue's battle had caused Magneto to lose his concentration and briefly stretch his power beyond its limits.  
  
So it was that Pietro was free to charge blindly into the mêlée.   
  
Magneto heard the cry, but Pietro was so fast he barely registered the speedster until his charge was over. Pietro ran past the line of downed people and skidded up his body, punching him in the jaw through the slit in his helmet with such momentum that it sent Magneto falling to the floor.   
  
"Don't you dare touch my sister!"  
  
Had they been in a room, the air would've been sucked out of it.   
  
Magneto looked at his son, and Pietro stared right back. If one was at all surprised to see the other alive after so long, they didn't show it. Instead, hot anger coursed along an electric line between them, crackling almost audibly in the fervent, battle-torn atmosphere.   
  
*******************  
  
Kurt felt something tugging at his sleeve, but the red curtain that had fallen across his vision also blurred his sense of touch. Yet when Pietro's screech reached his ears he couldn't help but look up, and he found himself gazing into teary pools of brown.   
  
"Kurti," Robyn said brokenly. Her sleeve was torn, part of it still in Ariel's hand.  
  
Kurt's mouth opened. Then it shut again. His expression faltered for a second, and he gritted his teeth as she touched the tail wrapped so tightly around Wolfsbane's neck.   
  
The lycanthrope's struggles were feeble, to say the least, so it was a short matter to bang her head against the floor and send her all the way into unconsciousness before uncoiling the serpentine appendage and letting her breathe once more.   
  
Robyn sniffed and fell into her brother's arms. Kurt caught her, whispering about how she should have stayed with the others where it was safe.   
  
"I couldn't," she snuffled into what had once been his shirt. "You would've done a Bad Thing. It would've made you sad. No more Sad Times. No more. I don't want you to be sad anymore, Kurti." She was so childishly matter-of-fact about it, it made his heart wrench, and Kurt considered for the first time what he'd been about to do.   
  
"Gott im Himmel..."   
  
"S'alright, Kurti," she said, wiping her snout and patting his arm. "You didn't do it. You're not a bad person. You stopped, and that counts - it does. You... you stopped before... before..." Her words dissolved into snivelling sobs, and they rocked together in the dust with inexplicable tears tracking their furry cheeks.   
  
*******************  
  
Magneto shifted and got to his feet. Pietro tensed, but anyone with a grain of intelligence could see that doing so caused him pain.   
  
"Your sister," his father said with deliberate slowness, "is dead. This... creature," he waved a careless hand at Rogue, "is not her."   
  
Pietro blanched, going paler than normal but retaining his place. "She's as much as I have."   
  
"You know why I've come." Both voices were calm, each word calculated and given only because it was needed.   
  
A flare of lucidity broke through Pietro's oncoming madness, and his eyes became clear and icy. "Oh, I dunno. Perhaps to experiment on us some more? Got a few hypodermics hidden under that cloak, *Pops*? Some drugs taped to the inside of your helmet, maybe? Or are these jokers you brought with you here to cart me off to the asylum as well, now?" His voice held a sneer, and Magneto blanched far more than he had.   
  
"I... I..." he stuttered, momentarily thrown. Past ghosts haunted all those gathered on that battleground. It only made sense his own would catch up with him someday.   
  
Today.   
  
After all, he'd already found the corpse of one, and was confronting the other.   
  
Her murderer.   
  
Drawing himself up, Magneto pointed at what had once been his son. "My sins are my own, but yours far outweigh them, Quicksilver."   
  
Pietro seemed confused at the use of his code rather than real name. Even more so at the word next uttered.   
  
"Murderer."   
  
"Me?" He glanced around, as if by doing so someone would step forward and claim the mantle.   
  
Magneto didn't look away. He didn't even blink. "I've done a great many things I regret in this life, but never have I stooped so low as to kill my own flesh and blood." The other hand joined the first. "Even now I'm not tarnishing myself with the same brush. I renounce you, Quicksilver. Never again will you be called my son, and no blood on my hands will ever be attributed to my kin."   
  
At that, a concussive blast of unimaginable force flew from his palms. It tore up everything in its path, finding the hidden iron in each scrap of material and crushing it to dust. Pietro took a step to run, stumbled because of his ankle, and remained in its way too long.   
  
There was no time for anyone to suck in breath, let alone scream, and Kurt was still in the process of reaching to cover Robyn's eyes when it hit.   
  
A portal opened up beneath Pietro's feet, swallowing him milliseconds before Magneto's magnetic blast would've rent him limb from limb. The wavering light it emitted blurred and scattered in his stead, flung every which way and fizzling into nothingness in the air.   
  
Everyone stared.   
  
They were still staring when a similar portal opened several metres distant, and the skeletal form of Bairn stepped out, followed by a very disorientated Pietro. The child didn't say a word, but wagged a finger at the Master of Magnetism like he was some kind of naughty child and she his reprimanding teacher.   
  
"What audacity is this?" Magneto thundered, angered beyond comprehension that someone would deny him the vengeance so rightfully his.   
  
"I told you," said a raspy, agonized voice. "The council doesn't take kindly to intruders. Especially those who insist on killing town-members, which these folk now are."   
  
Kurt turned at the voice. "Grasshopper," he breathed.   
  
Grasshopper dragged his torn and bloodied body across the battlefield, wiping yellowish ichor they assumed was blood from his eyes. He staggered, obviously in a great amount of pain, but clinging to him was still the indescribable aura that made him what he was - a leader.   
  
"There are those more loyal to those of us who've kept them safe the past four years than some angry deity in the sky with a penchant for crapping on them out of the blue."   
  
Magneto frowned at the insignificant insect, and raised his hand as if to treat Grasshopper to the same blast meant for Pietro. However, a white-hot burst of energy knocked his hand away, leaving the metal smoking.   
  
An unnamed mutant covered in dark brown quills and little else stepped from the freed crowd of Mutie Towners, glowering at the man professed to be his saviour. Several identical-teenagers did likewise as Jamie formed a protective circle around Kitty and the remaining children. The floral bulk that was Layla loomed over Rogue, pudgy face grim as she could manage.   
  
One by one, the inhabitants of Mutie Town peeled themselves away from their collective mass and positioned themselves around or beside the different adversaries. Alvin looked up as a child dripping green slime crouched next to the fallen Dazzler, and the trio of Spider-Man, Logan and Raven blinked in surprise as more Jamies and other mutants poured onto the field, choking the battles with their numbers and hard gazes.   
  
Silently, Magneto fumed. Rogue's efforts at mirroring his powers had cost him his concentration at holding the town members back, and now they were too widely dispersed for him to deal with in the same manner.   
  
Grasshopper knew this, and grinned lopsidedly. "You're strong, Magneto. You're a survivor. You stand for hope, for the fact that mutants can make it against terrible odds. That's why we raised you on that pedestal, made you practically a *god*. But you're not a god. You're mortal, just like the rest of us. You make mistakes, and taking us on was a doozy and a half." His coal black eyes danced. "Can you fight a whole town of mutants, Magneto? Can you?"   
  
Magneto stared at them. Magneto was strong, like oak or iron.  
  
So it was Erik who shed tears. "My *son*... *KILLED* my *daughter*," he said, voice gone thick. "At least give me *justice*."   
  
"It's not true! It's not *true*!" Daisy shrieked. "She nearly kill't Pie-Pie. An' she kill't Lance an' she almos' kill't Kurti an' *all* of us... but she stopped." The little lizard-girl was crying. "She stopped an' she threw herself inna river... 'cause she knew she'd hurt everyone. She kill't *herself*..."   
  
Pietro stood like he'd been defeated by the girl's words. "I couldn't stop her," he said throatily. "I couldn't run... I still can't run. Not properly. Feet faster than light - and they won't go anymore. I wanted to die because all I wanted was for us to be together. Pie-Wa and Wa-pie. Whole an' complete..." Then he laughed. It was the singular most frightening sound in the stillness there could ever be. "She's not gone. Not all the way. She's in Ro-Ro... We can still be together. We can still be complete."   
  
At that moment, it dawned on Magneto that *both* his children were insane. Long ago he'd made them strong, and that strength had introduced the flaw of madness.   
  
Or maybe it was genetic.   
  
Genetics…  
  
"She'll live again," said Erik suddenly. "I have the way. She'll live again. We'll be a proper family. I can fix it. I can fix it..." He took off his helmet. Undid his cloak. "No more needles. That I can promise. I can fix it. They'll live again. All of them. No more death. No more..."   
  
But the boy he'd once called son just looked at him through wounded eyes, and when he addressed him he did not use the word 'father' or anything of that type, and Erik knew that the damage had already been done, and nothing he said could ever undo it.  
  
"There's always gonna be death, Magneto. Always."  
  
And on the grounds of that pyrrhic defeat, a small child cried over her dog.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued…  
  
*******************  
  
[1] You have no idea how long I've wanted to write that. 


	34. Dystopia

A/N ~ I have returned from an unplanned absence. For some reason, whenever I tried to open the JD file in Word, my computer crashed. Needless to say, I was rather worried, but my father's technological wizard of a friend seems to have fixed things, so I'm back to torture you all with an update. Also, I'm looking for people to go read and review an experimental fic I have up called 'Stop the Fic, I Want to Get Off!' Less than impressive title, I know, but I'm attempting to look into the intrigues of writing XME fiction, investigating clichés, character portrayal, and formulaic plots along the way. Hopefully I'm not too much on a soapbox, but then, I won't know unless people tell me.   
  
Ice Princess ~ 'Spider-Man Spider-Man, does whatever a spider can...' Anybody else think that hyphen is redundant? Erik wasn't too quick on the uptake, no. I think a review from the chapter before last summed up the reason, though - a man and his grief are not easily parted. I suppose it's part of the human condition and inevitable slide into self-destruction showing itself, but I won't go into that here. Nobody wants to hear me ramble.  
  
Hootild ~ Oh that Shakespeare had written things like that. Maybe then he wouldn't be such a pain in the - moving right along. Hoot-bard. Now there's an idea. Like a hoot-nanny, but not quite...  
  
Silvervine ~ 'I wish I had started to read it later so I would not need to wait for the next chapter' - I'm beginning to get that feeling waiting for the things in my favourite stories section to get updated. Gonna chase after Allaine with a pitchfork if she doesn't update her Kim Possible fic soon.  
  
Cheesy Monkey ~ Goblin, goblin, goblin... You're right, it *is* fun to say. ^_^  
  
Gerri ~ I think you just knocked the Magneto vs. Erik conundrum squarely on the head. Kudos ^_^  
  
DemonRogue13 ~ Why thank you very much. And thanks for taking the time to read the fic thus far, as I realise it's become a bit of a monster by this point.   
  
Mickey ~ And another hearty thank you. ^_^  
  
Wolviesfan ~ Bugger. Um, just pretend that the broken bones bit actually said 'ruptured organs', as I'm pretty sure that even his healing factor wouldn't save him from initial damage.   
  
Tenshiamanda ~ Yes, poor Clive. I like dogs, so that decision was especially difficult. Watch for fallout in this chapter.  
  
Ssam ~ I apologise for stealing you away from your family and friends for three days, but thank you for reading this. ^_^ Explanations regarding Rogue's power finally get addressed in this chapter (Shock! Horror! An actual loose end is being tied up!?!)  
  
The Phantom ~ I love your overuse of upper case letters. Hee hee. And yes, Alvin rocks once again. Gotta love that guy, if for no other reason than his little fight scene allowed usage of the word 'whang'.   
  
UnknownSource ~ Language! And what country are you in, as a matter of interest?   
  
Springwarrior ~ Thanks. I liked that bit, too though I did worry it was sailing a little close to the wind. Cheesiness, y'know.   
  
IDNRAIORITSIG ~ Had to shorten your pseudonym. Sorry. Actually, it's not much shorter, but the other one sounded like I was totting my own horn a little too much. Um, worshipping not necessary, but thanks for your comments anyway. It only took you an hour? Wow, you read fast. I'm impressed.   
  
Ambrosia ~ Fear not, for this chapter comes mere hours after you lamented it not being there. Blame my computer. It's supposed to be new and improved. It's new, but... not improved. Bugger, where's my acronym thesaurus? Magnus Rex is a throwback to ancient Rome, wherein the Latin literally means 'great king'. Plus there's the side reference to Magneto's full name - Erik Magnus Lenscherr. Hence the throne comment. Cerebro II works via DNA codes, not mental signatures like Cerebro I - that's how Hank and Erik can use it. As far as I know, even in the comics nobody knows how old Mystique truly is. Like you say, shapeshifting equals an eternally youthful appearance.   
  
*******************  
  
Thirty-fourth Fragment ~ Dystopia  
  
*******************  
  
"Oh, there's gonna be a celebration in Des Moines tonight," sang Sneak with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, and somehow managing to be out of tune despite singing in a monotone.   
  
Bairn snorted and passed him a glass of liquor - Mutie Town's finest, made from fermented and distilled potato skins. Mostly potato skins, anyway [1].  
  
Sneak tossed it back and curled his lip disgustedly. "Bairn," he said tiredly, "that is absolutely vile."   
  
Bairn just nodded, and gestured to where Scry had passed out. Imbibing alcohol had never been the clairvoyant's strong suit, and in Mutie Town the more disgusting a drink, the more potent its results.  
  
"No, seriously, it tastes like semen." Sneak shrank in on himself when Bairn raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Or, uh, so I'd imagine."   
  
Bairn shrugged and turned back to her own liquor, the level of which was declining in her shot glass (actually an old and unwashed ceramic mug, but who cared?) at a distinctly more dignified pace.   
  
"What's the news from the prison compound, then?" Sneak asked.   
  
Bairn looked at him in exasperation, and pointed at her throat.   
  
"I was being facetious, dearest. Same again, if you please."   
  
Bairn sloshed some more liquor into his glass - actually a glass this time, a wine glass from which the stem had snapped. A glass for those who drink to get drunk, because it couldn't be put down until it was empty.   
  
"I just hate playing charades every time I ask you something, you know?" he admitted, once half of his shot was stomachward bound. "Still, I guess we're stuck with it unless your next mutation brings your vocal chords *back*."   
  
Bairn shrugged again. Scry let out a small snore that was more musical than the spy's attempt at singing.  
  
Sneak sighed, preparing himself for translation duty. "Very well. Once more unto the breach, dear friends. Are the new prisoners well-behaved?"   
  
*******************   
  
"Kinda cozy, Spider-boy, hmm?" Wolfsbane breathed into Peter's ear.   
  
Peter was so startled he fell off the wall and onto his head. "Yeah," he muttered resentfully, regaining his feet. "All the home comforts."   
  
"Aw, there's always something to do," she smirked, winking over her shoulder at the glaring Dazzler.  
  
The words 'like watch Magneto, maybe,' sparkled in the air.   
  
"Not really, no." Wolfsbane frowned. "What is that, some kind of Zen bollocks?"   
  
Erik had accepted the judgment that their attack warranted their captivity - at least temporarily - and had spent the entire period so far facing the corner, cross-legged. He took up a full fifth of the cramped cell sequestered inside what seemed to be an old warehouse slash prison.   
  
Nobody answered, and it took Wolfsbane a full two minutes to get bored this time. She said as much, stretching and displaying her necklace of bruises.   
  
That blue guy took care of you, didn't he? Dazzler noted snarkily.   
  
"Huh. Guess so. I suppose you'll need to nurse me back to health," Wolfsbane replied, leaning into Dazzler flirtatiously. The other girl drew back contemptuously, as far as the walls would allow - approximately two and three-quarter centimetres.   
  
At the front of the cell, Peter was pleading with a Jamie. "Come on, man, you *must* remember us," he said, spreading his hands.   
  
"Nuh-uh," said the Jamie, grinning. "I'd remember if I'd seen *those* two before," he said, nodding towards the women. "I can't be the only one looking for a catfight to break out, can I?" he added, raising an eyebrow in the way that idiots think is witty.   
  
"You really aren't our Jamie, are you?" said Peter in a weary voice, regarding him critically.   
  
"Nope."   
  
"Damn..."   
  
*******************   
  
"Annoying, if not in immediate danger of instigating a prison riot. I see."   
  
Bairn looked at Sneak disbelievingly. How did he get all that from a charade?   
  
*******************  
  
"How are they?"   
  
Layla brushed a loose strand of grey hair from her reddened face and exhaled noisily as she shut the door. "As well as can be expected. They took some nasty bumps and bruises, and no mistake. I'm good, but even I have my limits."   
  
Kurt blinked, conscious of his own hurts in plain sight, and trying to draw his clothes over them before she saw and started fussing.   
  
Layla, however, was more concerned with staring at the door she'd just closed on Pietro and Rogue. A thoughtful look played across her face, and she said nothing for several minutes.   
  
So many, in fact, that Kurt's gaze began to wander.   
  
After the battle, when Magneto and his lackeys were either led - or carried - away, those injured and their companions had all been taken to what he assumed had once been a hospital. Either that or junkies' heaven, judging by the large number of hypodermics and various other implements dotted about. Most rooms were thick with dust, indicating the place wasn't used much.   
  
Kurt was still wondering whether that was a good or a bad thing.   
  
Logan stood stiffly; not leaning against anything as was his usual habit, just inside another room with Kitty, Hope, Alvin and Raven. The children had been in Kurt's care across the way, but he'd broken away for just a second to see how the worst members of their party were doing. He could feel both Daisy and Ariel staring at him, burning holes in the fur on his back. Yet the sensation of knowing that Robyn *wasn't* looking hurt more. She hadn't moved from her spot in the corner since arriving, and refused to talk to anyone - even him.   
  
Layla's voice startled Kurt from his ruminations, and he jolted back to her with a heavy blink. "Your friend, Quicksilver, is pretty much just exhausted - the poor dear. He was a bit of a silly-billy, running clean across town with that ankle of his. Didn't do it any good at all. Same with the girl. Maxed out their powers, so they have. Sleep's the best remedy for that, I always say. Still..."   
  
"What?" Kurt caught the pensive note in her tone, and leaned forward accordingly. "Is there something else wrong with them?"   
  
Layla sighed, and Kurt noticed that she seemed to have aged a little since going in to tend to their wounds. For a second he wondered how old she actually was, since using her healing ability accentuated the lines on her face and the grey in her hair. For all he knew, she might be the same age as him, falsely aged by tending to so many for so long.   
  
"Not in the way you might think."   
  
"Entschuldigung?"   
  
She started at that, not used to hearing any language but English. "What? Oh, yes. Well, the girl - "   
  
"Rogue."   
  
"Yes, Rogue. Well, she's especially exhausted, poor darling, and I couldn't help but notice the similarities between her symptoms and those of the children hereabout. Y'know, those just coming into their powers?" She nodded, as if by doing so she'd implant the required knowledge into his brain.   
  
Kurt narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?"   
  
"You're familiar with the concept of evolution, aren't you?"   
  
He repressed the urge to give a barking laugh. "Fraulein, I'm the living *embodiment* of it."   
  
"Well, it seems that the young missy has been doing just that. It's as if her powers have suddenly... changed. I wasn't able to talk to her before she dropped off into the Land of Nod, but your other friend, uh, Windswift? Quicksilver? Oh, I don't know what we're supposed to call him anymore. Anyway, he said something about a, uh... a lab?"  
  
  
  
Kurt nodded grimly, his mind performing a few quick calculations. After what he'd happened upon in the Temple, and Rogue's strange behaviour out on the battlefield, it sort of made sense Pietro would know more about what had happened than anyone else. "Jawohl. Rogue was... she was in a mutant experimental lab for a long time. They... they did... *things* to her." He shivered; recalling the images he'd borne witness to when trapped in Rogue's psyche. "The scientists there were all top of their field, and expert geneticists. I suppose it's possible... they could've altered her powers. Rogue's ability means that if she touches anyone, skin on skin," he waggled his fingers for emphasis, "she absorbs their energy, part of their minds - and if they're a mutant, their abilities for a short time. But now it seems... she doesn't need to touch, only be close by."  
  
Layla sighed, wrinkling her nose. "The poor dear. No wonder she was all in."  
  
  
  
"Will she be okay?"   
  
"Apart from what I've told you, her injuries were relatively minor and easy to take care of. Her exhaustion shouldn't be a problem now her body doesn't have to worry about healing itself. But her new powers... Natural evolution tends to fit things together nicely. Manmade... well, I can't rightly say."  
  
  
  
Kurt frowned, not understanding.   
  
"Take Pietro," she went on at his expression. "His power is speed, right enough? But he has things in his body that allow him to cope with that power. His metabolism is extra fast, his lungs and heart extra powerful, and his skin is tough enough to withstand air friction. But what if he didn't have those things? Then his first run would likely be his last. Whatever power your Rogue now has, she might just have the power and not the other necessary physical things to help her cope with it."  
  
  
  
Kurt gulped.   
  
"Then again, that could just be me worrying about nothing. Just... keep an eye on things, eh?"  
  
  
  
"Zweifellos![2]" he agreed.   
  
"So," Layla began packing away her things into her ever-present knitting basket, "what're your plans from here on in?"  
  
  
  
Kurt shrugged. He really had no idea. They still needed to get to the West Coast. He wanted - no, *needed* to move out as soon as possible, and hoped that the recent defence off Mutie Town would stand them in good stead with its hierarchy.   
  
However, the question was, even after what they'd done, would the Council let them leave?  
  
*******************  
  
"No," Grasshopper said flatly, ichor crusted on his forehead like a badge.   
  
"No?" repeated Kurt in almost the same tone of voice. Despair ran threads of exhaustion through his veins.   
  
"Well," Grasshopper admitted, "I paraphrase. What the council's decision in fact was, was..." He paused, seemingly searching for the exact memory in the middle distance. "Oh yes, it was 'there is absolutely no way they are to be permitted to leave, under any circumstances.' Sorry," he concluded insincerely.   
  
"Sorry won't get us to the West Coast, friend," Logan rumbled, sitting beside Kurt on the old and fading bleachers. They were the only two that had been allowed out of the old hospital, and even then only to meet with Grasshopper in the skeletal ruins of Des Moines's old High School. Their two 'guards' stood a little distance away, waiting patiently.  
  
"Yes, well, life is harsh. Kill yourself or get over it," Grasshopper snapped. Kurt and Logan both bridled at the contempt lacing his remarks, but Grasshopper cut them off before they could finish. "I know you helped to save Mutie Town. I know that the citizens regard you less warily than they used to. I know that we owe you our thanks, maybe even our lives, and we do thank you. But," he spat ferociously, "that is not the *fucking* point!"   
  
"What is the point then?" Kurt asked barrenly.   
  
"The *point*," Grasshopper yelled, his voice beginning to buzz as it did when he raised it, "is that the Council say you cannot leave! I don't know why; I really don't care that much anymore." His voice slunk down to a more normal volume. "I should imagine that they don't want any more people learning about Mutie Town than already do. Frankly, I couldn't oppose them even if I was inclined to. I'm hardly irreplaceable. And they do a good job, for the most part. You won't find much opposition for them - or support for you, if you try to sneak by them."   
  
"You can't seriously be tellin' me that you're still keepin' us here indefinitely," Logan said, voice dark.   
  
"That's exactly what I'm saying," Grasshopper said quietly, not looking at them but at the place just below his own throat where a silver chain was supposed to rest.  
  
"Bitte, we *need* to leave. It's... it's a matter of life and death!"  
  
"Excuse me?" He raised what passed for an eyebrow  
  
Kurt drew in on himself, focussing on the splintering wood beneath his huddled feet. "That Goddess you hear tell of? Well... she's dying. I know her - used to know her. We knew her," he shook off Logan's reassuring hand," and we need to get to her before... we need to..."  
  
For a second something lit up behind Grasshopper's dark eyes. Not that either of them noticed it, or could have understood its meaning if they had. "You need to say goodbye while the chance is still there."   
  
Kurt sniffed. "Sort of. We were hoping to... to save her. At the very least, see her again. It's been so long... Vor ich gab oben Hoffnung einer langen Zeit, aber jetzt..."  
  
Though he didn't understand all that was said, Grasshopper comprehended enough, and pulled himself to his feet with a sigh. "Okay, okay, I'll go talk to them. But be warned, I think your chances are zilch, and I don't hold out much hope for a special favour later if you use up your Brownie points now."  
  
Kurt smiled, and for the first time since Grasshopper first met him, his gaze seemed slightly less sorrowful than usual. "Danke, Herr Grasshopper. And if you ever come to the Lands of New Hope, we'll be sure to welcome you with open arms."  
  
"Yeah, whatever." Grasshopper gestured that Redeye and Bubbles should take the pair of mutants back to their holding place in the interim, and started down the bleachers.   
  
He noticed Layla waving for him in a nearby building, and suppressed a groan as she caught his eye, thereby negating his excuse that he hadn't seen her. He had something to take care of first, and the healer was not first on his list of Things To Do.   
  
He descended, mumbling profusely, "Bet I'd be about as welcome as a fart in a spacesuit..."  
  
*******************  
  
"I hear Grasshopper went a bit crazy after the fight," Sneak commented. He had managed to maintain an impressive facsimile of perfect verticality despite his massive intake of alcohol.   
  
Bairn nodded sleepily; she was far more susceptible. Beside her, Scry just snored and gurgled softly, worry lines smoothed for a moment in blissful drunken slumber.   
  
*******************  
  
Grasshopper continuously shrugged of Layla's attempts to heal him. "God, woman," he snapped, "I'm fine, dammit. I left something out there and I need to fetch it. I'll be all of ten fucking minutes."   
  
"You watch your tongue around the children, Grasshopper," Layla scolded, ignoring his protests and laying her hands on the cracks in his carapace. In the distance, the sound of many voices rose in gentle mourning.  
  
"What fucking children?" asked Grasshopper, incredulity shifting his voice up a half-octave.   
  
"Well, there could be children here," Layla reasoned, working swift as she dared, given her low energy reserves. "And you don't want to get in the habit, in case there are some around next time."   
  
"There's not going to be a fucki - OW! Dammit, woman!"   
  
"Hold still, Grasshopper! I can't work if you fidget so!"   
  
"I am the leader of Mutie Town! I can fidget if I damn well want to!" He paused, then continued in a more sedate fashion, "Not that I would, of course, because it's far too undignified for a man of my station."   
  
"All done."   
  
"All *done*?" he exclaimed, his earlier placidity vanishing instantly. "If it was that easy, what did you make all the goddam fuss about?" He cut his own sentence off, however, by beating a hasty retreat through the door of the building in which Layla had been treating him - the home of a mutual friend of theirs. Layla, therefore, had precisely no time in which to protest the hypocrisy of his complaint.   
  
*******************  
  
"Where'd that goddam thing go?" muttered Grasshopper, scrabbling alone in the dust and rubble of the Bus Park where the fight had been.   
  
He had been searching for approximately an hour now, and twilight was encroaching upon the yard and threatening to bring his hunt to a premature end. A thin stream of people had come and gone at the Temple, and the funeral of one Lance Alvers had concluded long before the silver speckles came out to play.   
  
Grasshopper supposed he should have put in an appearance, but quickly shelved the idea, reasoning there was no need for his presence at the last rest of a guy he'd never known. And anyway, Bubbles and Redeye were quite capable of taking care of things on their own.  
  
He was considering giving up when a glint of silver caught his eye. The thin chain had managed to slide halfway through the hubcap of a spare wheel, rusted and rotted to uselessness by now. A straggly, brownish weed shared the hole in which the chain now nestled.   
  
  
  
"There you are," Grasshopper murmured warmly, hooking the end of the chain with one finger and pulling it out. "I wouldn't -" He stopped.   
  
The ring, which he had worn on his necklace for the past four years, was not there.   
  
With artificial calm at first, then with increasing desperation, he cast fruitlessly around nearby.   
  
Nothing.   
  
Wracked by tearless and silent sobs, he then crouched on the ground next to the wheel. He had rooted out the weed looking for the ring, and it hung crumpled and feeble from a fist. He overbalanced and toppled into the dust, still sobbing, where he lay for a couple of minutes until his shaking subsided.   
  
It was replaced, shortly, by a buzz - a rasp that grew steadily more grating and loud. A burst of motion, of furious energy, and Grasshopper had returned to his feet. He drew in a deep breath, and the feel of it in his lungs was like breathing bile and ashes.   
  
"*FUCKING*," he screamed, "*BASTARDS*!"   
  
He grabbed the wheel and flung it as far as he could - a not inconsiderable distance. He smashed the windows of an abandoned school bus, one by one until the floor of the bus glittered like a constellation. He snapped the door off. The last of the pneumatics wheezed pathetically and provoked a sickly giggle. He battered the wheels with the door until the sharp edge where it had sheared from its support pierced the decaying rubber and the tires blew out noisily. He grabbed the side of the bus and tried to heave it over, but that was past the point his strength could help him.   
  
After five minutes of straining, face still dry from eyes that could not cry, he sat back down, defeated, and wrapped the chain that had once held the wedding ring of his dead wife around his hand. He strung it between his fingers and stared, memorising each link and each stain, until the very last strains of sunset turned it into a black silhouette against a midnight blue sky.   
  
Grasshopper toyed briefly with the silver chain, and then draped it forlornly over the wrist of one of his left hands. It glared back sullenly, each of the tiny eyes glittering at him in tearful accusation.   
  
He then headed purposefully to the Council, to speak further on the decision they had made on Kurt's party.   
  
*******************  
  
"Liebchen?"   
  
Robyn sat in the corner, desolate and silent. She didn't even turn when Kurt came back in from Lance's interment, nor when said her name.   
  
Daisy and Ariel huddled on the bed. Close, but not too close.   
  
Kurt shuffled closer to the sibling he'd raised for four years, heart splitting when she consciously swivelled her head away from him. "Kleines, please," he said softly. "At least look at me, even if you don't want to talk."   
  
Still she stayed her head, staring solidly at the grimy wall. In her hands she held a short length of chewed leather, studded with tiny metal spikes. For some reason Pietro had salvaged it along with much other stuff back in Bayville whilst packing for their trip, and the two girls had subsequently found it and given it over to Clive when it proved big enough for the puppy's neck. It was stained in several places; two of the spikes coloured silvery red.   
  
Kurt sighed; sitting back on his haunches and letting his tail make pictures in the dust on the floor. He knew Logan was standing in the doorway, as he had been ever since they came back. It had been Kurt's idea to call in on the children first, before retiring to their own respective beds, such as they were.   
  
On the mattress-less bedframe, Daisy shivered. Ariel tried to wrap one arm around her to keep her warm, but she shoved him off and moved away to sit with her back against the headboard, reptilian eyes huge in the oncoming dusk. Logan spared her a strange glance, but said nothing.   
  
The silence was stifling.   
  
Then, all at once it broke with a whisper.   
  
"Couldn't save her."   
  
Kurt blinked. "Was, Kleines?"   
  
"She tried to save us from that nasty lady, but nobody could save her." Robyn stroked the leather collar with the tip of one finger, tail limp next to her like a lifeless snake. "Why not, Kurti?"   
  
Kurt swallowed and cleared his throat. How to explain the workings and unfairness of life and death to a five year old? She'd seen so much in her short life - all of them had. Yet Robyn had never come quite so close to death before as this day. He'd kept her safe in Bayville, teaching her to hide away from hunters and dead bodies alike.  
  
Kurt remembered how she'd cradled Clive in her arms on the makeshift battlefield, calling to her pet as the puppy went cold. Daisy had been there, too, but she'd seen more of this than Robyn. Daisy had seen men die in scraps when she was just a baby in arms, and grown up surrounded by violence and hatred tenfold what he'd protected Robyn from. Ariel was an ex-slave, who had seen other slaves die when they couldn't work anymore, and witnessed their bodies flung about when angry owners came asking Trader Dan for refunds.   
  
Disease, sickness, murder, debauchery.   
  
Strange that the passing of one little dog could spark such a reaction in them all.   
  
"Liebes, sometimes... sometimes they can't be saved. Sometimes there's nothing you can do, no matter how much you want to. Or try to."   
  
"Layla tried. Didn't work." A sniff. "Kurti, she was all split open. I could smell her. She was... she was frightened, Kurti. She was frightened of dying. I was frightened of her dying."   
  
Kurt suddenly felt very guilty about all the bad feeling he'd been nursing against Clive since Robyn fell sick. He'd shunned her, but Clive had only been a puppy. A baby. A child. She'd died trying to protect the young ones from Wolfsbane. Logan would call it a hero's death or some such malarky. Kurt just called it a waste.   
  
"Liebes," he said, not knowing what to say. "I... I'm sorry..."   
  
"Why? You didn't do anything." Robyn finally turned, cheek-fur wet with tears. "Kurti, I felt her die. She was all shuddery, and then she went all still. I was holding her, Kurti. She took so long... I held her..." She loosed a sob, and sniffed loud and long.   
  
Kurt spread his arms wide and she scrabbled into them. Together, they rocked on the bare floorboards, tails intertwining as she emptied her tears against his shirt.   
  
Logan looked on, and despite his cold features, he couldn't help a sudden twang in the region of his heart. And somehow, that gave him a sense of hope, that whatever he'd seen, and whatever he'd seen others go through, he still knew how to feel.  
  
Perhaps there was hope for humanity yet.  
  
*******************  
  
Peter had taken to the ceiling to avoid the forced distance of Dazzler and the all-too-nearness of Wolfsbane. The cell wasn't any less cramped for his efforts, but he had to try something.   
  
"How's the weather up there, Spider?" Wolfsbane asked, tilting her head back, not coincidentally showing off her considerable cleavage in the process. Her minimal clothing had not survived the fight unscathed.   
  
He looked out the cell, determined not to give into the temptation. "Too cramped." He narrowed his eyes, then looked over at their leader. "Magneto, what's our plan?"   
  
"Plan?" came the hollow voice, body giving no indication of movement. "We wait. We wait for the Council's decision. Then we leave."   
  
"But what if the Council forces us to stay?"   
  
Magneto turned his head slightly to Dazzler and raised a finger to his lips. Dazzler nodded and dampened the sound around the cell so no talk would escape.   
  
"Their decision is irrelevant to whether we leave or not. They will only decide how many have to die if they get in our way."   
  
Peter was glad for the mask that still covered his face. He didn't want Magneto to see the look of shock and betrayal. "But you said - "   
  
"I promised no more death for my family, Spider-Man. Any fool who gets in the way of that promise will be shown no mercy."   
  
*******************   
  
Grasshopper walked the familiar path to an old building in the very centre of Mutie Town. It was rickety, dirt-encrusted, and barely standing.   
  
He opened the door and approached the Council, looking around the spacious room with the table arranged in a half-moon. He bowed, and then rose, manner impeccable, but somehow jerky in his disjointed body.   
  
"What is the will of the Council? The outsiders wish to leave, to continue their quest to the Land of the Goddess."   
  
Silence.  
  
"Yes, I know you've already said they have to stay, but they helped save the town from Magneto and his soldiers."   
  
Not a sound.  
  
"Very well. I'll tell them, though I don't think they'll be overly pleased."   
  
Grasshopper bowed again and turned to leave. The door closed behind him, leaving behind an empty room, with only a single set of footprints breaking the layers of dust covering every surface.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Altogether now...  
  
[2] Certainly! 


	35. Providence

A/N ~ Playing loose and fast with several timelines in this chapter. Huzzah for obsolete history lessons. Also, I'd like to draw attention to the response to Hootild's review. Suggest away, people, please.  
  
UnknownSource ~ I think you're the only real fan of the kiddiwinks, and for that I thank you. I like the little 'uns, even though they're not *especially* important or prominent.   
  
Cheesy Monkey ~ Grasshopper's Council is exposed in this chapter (no, not like that for all the pervs in the audience). Thanks for the reviews of STFIWTGO, I really do appreciate it. Your review just wasn't showing up when I wrote the previous chapter's author notes. CH34 was an expository chapter, really, so yeah, it was uninteresting in some parts. Oh well.  
  
Ezrajade ~ Grasshopper's an enigma wrapped up in a bad attitude – like my old P.E. teacher, really. Only less fearsome.   
  
The Phantom ~ Perhaps a Dudeling? S.W.A.T. totally stole that from JD. Seriously. I could get them for copyright theft… ;) Daisy gets some attention in a few chapters, as does Ariel, so watch this space.   
  
Hootild ~ Actors for characters? What, you mean voice actors (a la Evo) or the live action variety? Hmmm, have to give that one some thought. Animation-wise, Spidey would have to be voiced by Christopher Daniel Barnes, who voiced Peter Parker in the 1990s Spiderman animated series on Fox. Always thought him more believable than other Spidey incarnations – and that includes Tobey Maguire. Dazzler's mute, so she doesn't need a VA… original Evo voices where necessary, of course. Um… still as VAs, Rupert Everett as Brian Braddock, maybe Bob Hoskins as Alvin (can we say 'wishful thinking'?)… Actually, Alvin's a difficult one to call. Anybody got a better idea? Lenore Zann strikes me as a voice for Daisy, provided she could do the accent (she played Rogue in X-Men: TAS), and maybe Frankie Muniz as Ariel. Grasshopper… I don't know. Edward Asner, perhaps? Ooh, ooh, actually, I'd like Brian Drummond to play Grasshopper. He's got both gravel and emotion on tap – nifty little trick when your face can't be seen. Hank Azaria as Sneak, and if she were still able, Susanne Pollatschek as Robyn (she played Olivia Flaversham in 'Basil the Great Mouse Detective' back in 1986, so a time warp or two may be involved to get her on the payroll). Ach, I'll have to relegate any characters I've missed to the next A/N. In the interim, suggestions for VAs greatly welcomed. I'd be interested to see other people's takes on characters and their voices.   
  
Ice Princess ~ You will indeed find out in this chapter. Insert maniacal cackling here, if you wish.   
  
Gerri ~ 'After all, Nature makes mistakes, but Man makes far worse ones. One day I'll try and figure out why.. :P' Because we're short-sighted, ephemeral creatures out for our own interests above those of the rest of the world? Thick-skinned… yeah, I can see that.   
  
Tenshiamanda ~ A bitch in more ways than one. Sorry to hear about your cat :(   
  
AerinBrown ~ The ending is… atypical. And that's all you're going to get out of me for now.   
  
Yma ~ I know. Grasshopper is da man! Uh, insect… mutant. Whatever. Yep, Yodelbean is responsible for most of his sarcastic verbal skillz. And we're past 300 revies now – WOOT! Go our reviewers!  
  
Ambrosia ~ The little girl back on Asteroid M was called Jane, an empathic healer missing pinkies and little fingers. Watch out for more of the Dazzler/Peter/Wolfsbane triangle in later chapters. That catfight might not be so far away as people think…  
  
DemonRogue13 ~ You'll have to read on to find out. ;)  
  
Springwarrior ~ That's an… interesting theory you have there. Definitely unique, though. Mr. Hoppers… *snickersnort*.   
  
sPoOkZ13412 ~ I'm glad you like it. Thanks.   
  
SSam ~ Yup, Rogue absorbed Wanda without touching her back on the bridge, as well as when they first broke out of the labs. Hence the flashbacks sequence a hella chapters ago. ;)  
  
ChaosCat ~ 'Most people don't understand that you don't have to have romance between a male and a female character in order for a relationship of any sort to work.' Yes! Finally, someone else who gets it. That's something that really, *really* annoys me in movies – there are virtually *no* male-female partnerships that don't end up in romance or at least lust by the end credits. Are the scriptwriters compensating for something?!? Leave 'em alone to be friends! They don't need to fall in love or do the humpy-dance, dammit! Thank you so much for writing that, it really made my day. ^_^  
  
sycommansonboy ~ Thank you.   
  
*******************  
  
Thirty-fifth Fragment ~ Providence  
  
*******************  
  
Grasshopper had been and gone, leaving a wake of despair, frustration and rage.   
  
Kurt seemed to be showing the latter two of these emotions particularly.   
  
He was currently occupied in storming round; grumbling and kicking whatever furniture came within reach.   
  
"Kurt," said Kitty softly, hearing his feet connect with the table, a chair, and the bed respectively. "Kurt, calm down. It's over, Kurt. There's no use in - "  
  
"Nein! It's not over! I won't *let* it be over! I - we travelled so many miles, went though so much pain, so much death... for this?! To get stranded here?! Nein, I won't let that happen! I *won't*! We need a plan - any plan, to get us out of here."  
  
"I have a plan," Raven said quietly, hands folded in her lap in a semblance of restraint. Grasshopper's audience had meant all the adults moved into the one room, and as yet, they had yet to be separated again.  
  
"Ja?" Kurt's ear was instantly attentive, and he plopped down to lean close.  
  
  
  
She sighed, turning her eyes to the ceiling, as if still working out the kinks in her idea while she spoke. "With my shapeshifting abilities I could probably escape, turn into a hawk or some other suitable animal, and be away before anyone knew it. Then I could travel towards the Goddess' lands; take news of what's happening. From what Alvin said, it's possible that they'd put together a rescue party of some sort."  
  
Alvin shook his head. "That's not a good plan," he said simply, playing with the frayed edge of his sleeve. "Don't get me wrong, my people would do that if you asked them, but we're not warriors. We're farmers, primarily - and, more important, human. We don't have the power to infiltrate or make war upon Mutie Town. Or if we did, our casualties would be great."  
  
"So that plan's out." Kurt snorted and folded his arms. "Next?"  
  
A few dozen ideas swapped brains; refining and then dying as problems were spotted and pointed out. Outside, the world grew yet darker, and still nothing emerged.  
  
Then Kurt sat bolt upright, an idea popping unannounced into his head. "Hang on... ach, it's so simple. Why didn't we think of that before? What if I was to go talk to them myself?"  
  
"Talk to who?" asked Logan, quiet and surly in the corner.   
  
"The Council. Perhaps it I was to put across our argument in person - "  
  
"No chance, Elf. I talked to Grasshopper 'bout that as he was leavin', but he just said no. Apparently the Council lives separate, in that old library buildin', away from the rabble. Only *he* gets to see 'em. You won't be let in there."  
  
"Fine. Then I go in uninvited."   
  
"And how d'ya propose to do that?"  
  
  
  
Kurt just gave Logan and incredulous look, like he was a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket. "I *can* teleport, you know."  
  
"Blind? What about poppin' into the middle of a wall?"  
  
"Given our situation, it's a risk I may have to take."  
  
*******************  
  
The door to the makeshift prison slammed open, admitting the Defender of Mutie Town, Grasshopper. Logan lounged against the door to the room they were gathered in; the rest of the inhabitants huddled together, hoping he wouldn't notice the absence of one of their members.   
  
"Back so soon? So what's the word, bub?"   
  
Grasshopper narrowed his coal black eyes. "Okay, fun's over. Bubbles told me you lot were up to something. Where's the blue one?"   
  
Raven rose. "I'm right here, or are you blind as well as incompetent?" It was not difficult to fake the anger in her voice.   
  
"Not you," he hissed, wings beginning to buzz irritably. "The other one, with the tail."   
  
Logan smirked and popped a single claw to pick something out of his teeth. "We figured you wouldn't get the job done, so he went to go talk to your 'Council' himself."   
  
Grasshopper's eyes went wide with fear.  
  
Logan continued, his smugness growing with every moment. "What's got you so scared, Grasshopper? That they'll let us go? Think they'll favour outsiders over you, their precious mouthpiece?"   
  
"No... I think they'll kill him," Grasshopper managed, before Raven's arm snaked out and grabbed him.   
  
"Who?" she demanded, voice eerily calm. "Who will kill my son?"   
  
"The Council!" he gasped. "The Ladies!"   
  
*******************   
  
{BAMF!}  
  
Kurt coughed up a lungful of dust, thanked the Lord he'd made it to open space in one piece, and then got his bearings.   
  
The library might once have been an imposing place, but now looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Dust covered every inch, except for a well-worn trail from the door to the front desk - presumably made by Grasshopper. The footprints certainly looked like he could have made them.  
  
"Hello?" he ventured. "Is anyone here?"   
  
Nothing and nobody answered.   
  
Kurt's eyes narrowed. It was a set up. There was no Council here - maybe never had been. His lip curled in a growl - that Grasshopper had kept them here while Ororo lay dying, if she wasn't dead already! When h got hold of him he was going to -   
  
"...intruder..."   
  
_What?_  
  
He whipped around, and then cocked an ear.   
  
Nothing. Maybe it was just the w -   
  
"...outsider..."   
  
There it was again! He crouched low in a defensive posture. "Hallo?"   
  
"...a visitor..."   
  
It couldn't be his imagination. The voices were too real. Kurt stood up straight and addressed where he thought they may be coming from in the deceptively echoing space.   
  
"Excuse me? My name's Kurt Wagner, of the… travellers. My family wishes to leave Mutie Town. Will you hear us out?"   
  
"...Wagner..."   
  
"...hear us..."   
  
"...yes, we will hear you..."   
  
He smiled, and bowed his head. "Thank you," he said, eyes darting behind him to pick out something - anything in the all-encompassing gloom.   
  
"Thanks?" The voice was clear now and tinged with amusement, as if the speaker was right in front of him.   
  
Kurt quickly looked up and gasped in amazement. The library was now a grand hall; impeccably furnished and with dust disappeared. A huge chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling, shining diamonds of colour and white light across gold fittings and polished wood. It was breathtaking, like stepping back in time.  
  
Three figures also now stood in front of him.   
  
The first was a young lady, perhaps a year older than himself, and she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen - with the notable exception of the late Jean Grey. Her hair was golden, and cascaded down her back like a river of molten sunlight.  
  
The next woman had aged gracefully, with gentle, motherly curves. She could easily have been mistaken for a cousin of his foster-mother or Layla. Her eyes were kind and soft, and her face edged in wrinkles made by past smiles.  
  
The last was an old crone, bent and wrinkled with age. Her eyes were icy and quick, boring a hole through him as though she could see his very soul by stare alone. Her hair was wispy grey and smoke-like, loose around her face, but still looked impossibly austere.   
  
The crone cackled, a chilling sound that sent shivers all the way down to the base of Kurt's tail; and for the first time, he wondered whether he'd made a mistake.  
  
"Oh dearie," the middle one picked up from where the first had left off, shaking her head, "you don't thank the Fates."   
  
  
  
*******************   
  
Wolfsbane's ears pricked up at a sound only she could hear. The door to the warehouse was open, and the Jamie that was not theirs peered out, incredulity etching his face.   
  
"The others... they're fighting their way out."   
  
Peter and Dazzler turned to her suddenly, both surprised by this revelation. They might have spoken, but a shrill yell from the street called their attention.  
  
Magneto merely stood and turned to the bars holding them. "Then it appears the Council has decided to try and keep us all here."   
  
He gestured, and the bars flew from the frame.   
  
*******************  
  
"The... Fates?" Kurt echoed, unbelieving.  
  
  
  
"Yes, yes," said the old crone. "The Fates. What's wrong, boy? Going deaf?"  
  
"I doubt it," crooned the young maiden. "Not with ears like that."  
  
Kurt shook himself. "But... but you're... you're just legends..."  
  
  
  
"No, no, love," said the middle, motherly one. "We're just very, very old. Though not all of us look it." This last comment was directed at the youngest woman, who merely smiled and pouted like the supermodels of the Old World.   
  
"The Fates… So... so you're the ones running Mutie Town? *You're* the Council?" Kurt thought back to his spotty history lessons and vague textbooks, dredging up all he could remember about the three sisters now apparently stood before him. "And... and you can see into the future?"   
  
"Yes, yes and yes," snapped the oldest. "Who else do you think runs this place? That old warrior, Grasshopper? Or maybe the Tooth Fairy?"  
  
"Uh... there's a Tooth Fairy? Is there a Santa Claus too? Because if there is - "  
  
  
  
"Oh, settle down, young one," the maternal woman smiled. "You seem to be a bit hung up on our appearance here, yes? Thought we were just part of old folklore? Didn't think we existed? Am I right?"  
  
Kurt nodded dumbly. This was impossible. Just a mind game – a trick of his senses. Grasshopper had mentioned something about the Council and telepaths, after all…  
  
"Well, let us tell you a story. Urd, this is your department I believe?"   
  
The old one nodded, and began to speak in a voice like crackling paper. "The tale begins many thousands of years ago, in Egypt, where the first mutant was born. His real name is unimportant, but he was a creature of great power, and went by the title of En Sabah Nur. Later on, when his power grew more, he adopted the epithet 'Apocalypse'. True to his name, he did indeed seek to bring about the end of the world, or near as damn it. Luckily, with the rising of a massive army and one of great power, he was captured and imprisoned in a tomb, where he lies still. But before this he sired three daughters, three second-generation mutants."   
  
"The first second-gens, us," the youngest sister smiled, until the one called Urd glared her down.  
  
She went on, clearing her throat as if in dire need of a glass of water. "He wanted to use us to bring about the end of the world, but we would have nothing of it. We're immortal, you see – tied to the fate of man. We live on until the human race itself dies. Whilst one person still lives on this Earth, so shall we. And so, even after En Sabah Nur's incarceration, we live still, using our powers across the globe to ensure the survival of both man and Mutantkind - as well as keeping ourselves amused." She gestured at her wizened chest. "I am Urd, seer of all that is past. I remember all. My sister there, the middle one, is Verdani. She sees all that is, and communicates with those mutants sensitive to such callings, such as Seer, Scry, and the now dead Destiny. Finally there is our youngest sister, Skuld. It is her power to see into the future, to gather the data the past and present give her, extrapolate the odds, and from it predict what will happen."   
  
"Ahem."  
  
Grudgingly, Urd added, "She's very good at it."  
  
"Thank you, sister dear."  
  
Kurt said nothing, still struck dumb by awe. For some reason, the words rang true, despite the pure impossibility of it all. There was an aura about these three – an atmosphere of wisdom gained through experience and great age.  
  
Then he found his tongue. "But aren't you supposed to live in Greece or someplace? Why live here, on the other side of the world, in a little nothing town like this?"  
  
The motherly woman - Verdani - answered. "Why not? We've lived a long time, Kurt Wagner. You think we stayed all our thousands of years on the same continent? Mutie Town is our home for the present, just as Greece, Rome and Egypt have been in the past. We even dabbled in the place now called Britain for a while, though I can't say it much took our fancy."  
  
Kurt swallowed, drawn in by their stares. He *felt* the truth behind their words, despite the unfeasibility of it all, and couldn't help but believe what they said. "Then... then if you see all that is, if you see all that was, why do you want us to stay? You've seen all we've been through on our journey. You've seen all the death, suffering, and pain we've had to endure. You have to know how much we *need* to get to Ororo, before it's too late! You can't deny us that. Not after all this... bitte... please let us leave?"   
  
There was a deep silence. The three sisters looked to one another, and Kurt sensed that words were being spoken without need for voices.   
  
"Very well," Skuld said at last. She sighed, and it was like rippling silk from her lips. "You may leave. Perhaps it was foolish of us to try to prevent our own prophecy anyway. But we had to try. Go then. Leave Mutie Town. You have our permission, and soon that of Grasshopper's, too."  
  
  
  
"Danke," Kurt said hastily, struck by the swiftness in their decision's change. Then he found himself asking, "What... what prophecy were you trying to prevent?" He thought back on all that Alvin's book had told them. If they had informed Seer enough to make such claims, then which one was so important?  
  
Verdani's words made his breath catch in his throat.  
  
"That of our own death," she breathed sadly.  
  
"But... but you said you'd live as long as humanity..."  
  
  
  
"Exactly."  
  
Kurt paled. "Gott im Himmel!"  
  
  
  
Skuld smiled again. "Don't worry, Kurt Wagner," she said. "The future is almost certain anyway, whether or not you leave. You're not the last link of the chain, nor are you its burning fuse. You're merely one of the many, many steps leading along that ultimate road. It matters little, in truth, whether you stay or go. And there is still hope. While random chance, while luck, and while love remain in this world, there is always hope." She turned her face to the ceiling, as if watching the clouds in the night sky pass through the roof. "Go now. There's a jailbreak going on even as we speak. You may want to be there."  
  
Kurt swallowed the lump in his throat. "Is there anything I can do? Anything..." he asked, the sentence hanging unfinished in the gloomy air.   
  
"Follow our portents dearie," said Verdani. "Listen to what our servants say, and try your best. That's all that can be hoped for."  
  
"All that can be expected," Urd snapped.  
  
"You can't give me any more help?"  
  
"Actually, yes," said Skuld. "I *do* have one more piece of advice for you. If you want it, that is."  
  
Kurt nodded so hard his head nearly fell off.  
  
Skuld started forward, moving out of the line she and her sisters formed. Years of dust spilled from her simple, grey smock, and her skin seemed to glitter with some hidden light. Bending down a little, she brought herself eye level with him, and Kurt smelled the strange fragrance of dust over rose petals.   
  
He couldn't move, even if he had wanted to. Skuld leaned forward; her scent filling his nostrils, intoxicating, as her lips barely brushed the pointed tip of his ear.  
  
"Live," she whispered. "Enjoy and make the best of each hour of every day of every week of every year. Live and take pleasure in life, and the lives of those around you."   
  
With that, she straightened up and moved back to her place, almond shaped eyes mournful and liquid.   
  
Sensing that nothing more could be said or done there, Kurt left hurriedly, his mind busy with thoughts. He went through the door this time, seeing no reason for subterfuge or wasting energy – though in truth, he felt strangely revitalised after his short spell in the sisters' company.  
  
The three women watched him leave. Then the room turned once again into an old and abandoned library, and all seemed as it was, save for an extra set of footprints, and some damp patches on the floor where salty tears had mixed with the thick dust.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued…  
  
******************* 


	36. Choice

A/N ~ Profuse apologies concerning the length of time between the previous chapter and this one. Those technical difficulties I talked about last time came back to haunt me, and meant I've spent the last few weeks (in between writing essays, research notes and conducting Education Studies interviews) decoding what was left of my fried disk and cordoned off C-drive files. Luckily for me, my dissertation prelude wasn't affected, but the cost was the Judgment Day file. Hence, the waiting period while I painstakingly pieced things back together.   
  
The upshot was that I got two pieces of Static Shock fanfic written and released in the interim. I'm willing to beg people to go read and review them. Please? I'll give you cookies if you do. Lovely, lovely cookies... You wants 'em. You know you does. *Smeagol laugh*.  
  
By now, it will have come to the attention of most that X-Men: Evolution did not have its contract renewed by KidsWB and, subsequently, will not be returning for a fifth season. I suggest a six-line silence to honour the passing of a well-made, enjoyable and oft times thoughtfully mature show.  
  
Silence over; let's get to ficcing.  
  
Nemati ~ If that attendance of the Fates was unexpected then we've been doing our jobs properly. Merci. Unfortunately, I work with a dial-up connection that hates downloading. It scowls at me when \I consider it, and since I don't want a repeat of the exploding!computer saga, I let its have its way.  
  
Hootild ~ Kathy Bates! Oh, wow, yes. Kathy Bates as Layla, yup. Get her agent on the phone, pronto! Gary Oldman, you say? I have a special character in mind for him. He does English Evil so well, even in Lost In Space... Not too fond of the accent in The Fifth Element, though. Hee hee, 'I speak only two languages; English and Bad English.'  
  
Ezrajade ~ Here's your update. Sorry about the wait.  
  
UnknownSource ~ Twisty turny wormy gurny. Hee hee, extravagance is to be expected somewhat in a fic with this kind of scope. Another battle, you say? Hmm...  
  
Yma ~ I've heard of Oh My Goddess and had a flick through some of the manga in Borders, but I haven't actually watched any. Le sigh. No channel I know of shows it and I'm not shelling out for DVDs or videos if I can't be sure I'll like it. I don't have that kind of disposable income (*cries*).   
  
Nessie6 ~Not quite. Destiny was a recipient of visions from the three sisters, just like Seer, Scry and other such mutants. But the Fates are Apocalypse's children, yes. Some comic characters have already appeared - Dazzler, Captain Britain, Psylocke was mentioned a while back, as well as few others. Even Skids had a cameo, if you spotted it.  
  
SPoOkZ13412 ~ Thank you. Here it is. And you have a very difficult name to type.  
  
Gerri ~ Disney's Hercules! Completely incorrect story, but fun nonetheless. I actually went and raided my sister's video collection after reading your review. I love Phyl. Although Danny DeVito's never been quite same for me after I realised he was King Grundle. Grundlenumph!  
  
Tenshiamanda ~ Sneaky!Kurt. Less of him this chapter and more of Shouty!Kurt. But any kind of Kurt is good, I guess. ^_^  
  
Cheesy Monkey ~ *Plucks Cheesy from little corner of the net* How long have you been sitting there? Eesh, have some victuals that aren't curdled dairy products or primate. Oh, and a new chapter. Sip, don't slurp.  
  
Furygrrl ~ I doubt I've ever received a nicer review. Thank you. Thank you from me and everyone else; we appreciate it more than you could ever know. We are proud, but that pride doesn't mean anything unless people like you come along and read what we've produced. So thank you very much once again.  
  
The Phantom ~ I guess the Fates have a face for anyone and everyone they come across. Kurt saw them as they wanted to be seen, but that's not necessarily the version Grasshopper knows. If I continue further down that path we get into the discussion on perception I had in my English tutorial last week, whereupon we decided that language is fundamentally untrustworthy because of perception, and the world as we know it may be little more than our awareness and nothing other than a mass of sensory input with no real bearing on reality as it actually is. Sounds Matrix-y, but it all comes down to (if you'll believe it) the simple argument that language stunts perception of the world. There is no innate 'pen-ness' to a pen, just words to describe it, and so how can we be sure that a pen to me is a pen to you? Similarly, there is no real acuity of the Fates, and so they can be seen as and how each individual person wishes to see them, dependant on clarity of mind, thought and discernment. ^_^ Got all that?  
  
Ambrosia ~ I have to say I've never actually read Stephen King. Is he as good as people make out, or just solid ground for Hollywood vultures to pick at occasionally?   
  
Ice Princess ~ Rogue and Pietro are not a romantic couple. There, that's that one nipped in the bud. They are consolation siblings - Rogue has enough of Wanda's memories and shared experiences in her to augment the time she spent living with Pietro et al in Bayville so that she perceives him as a sort-of brother. The emotion is partially hers, partially Wanda's; hence the Ro-Ro bit. Pietro needs someone to anchor him, preferably family, and Rogue is fulfilling the role Wanda can no longer realize. The fact that Magneto has essentially disowned Pietro has gone a long way to furthering this corollary reaction.   
  
KittyKate ~ Stand by for closure in... ach, I'm not counting. A few chapters' time. I think this should all be wrapped up by the end of next month if I release a chapter a week. You like my A/N? Well, that's a first. Usually I'm commanded to shut up when I babble. Yee hee! ^_^  
  
Archer ~ Age has no bearing on The Schoolgirl Crush. Neither does gender, actually, but I won't go into that here. See above for number of chapters left. You want the Daisy and Robyn pics? Well, I have three now, thanks to the illustrious Yodelbean (writer of much Grasshopper verbiage and driving force behind his character) so I'll send them as soon as I can get back to my scanner.   
  
Rurouni Tyriel ~ I can honestly say I never expected to see you around this little fic. You should be writing more of Infection. Go, write, I command it. I kind of like Knitting!Lance, but that's just me. Paradoxical imagery gets my heart pumping. The Craft! Yes, you got the reference. Rahne's character pleases me, also. The fight between her and Wolverine was just too good to pass up, and hearkens back to a back-issue of an AU X-Men comic wherein they fought and she won. You go, girl!  
  
*******************  
  
Thirty-sixth Fragment ~ Choice   
  
*******************  
  
He had been travelling for weeks on his motorcycle, getting gasoline wherever he could, walking some, and just trying to put some distance between himself and New Orleans. His clothes and skin were filthy, only coming clean in rain. His shades were the only immaculate thing about him, and even then only because he had to see.  
  
  
  
New Orleans. His home city. Now underwater through the combined force of Lake Ponchichrain and the Mississippi River [1]. The hurricane that occurred six months ago didn't help matters any either, as well as the sweltering humidity that occurred in southern Louisiana during the hot season. As in, any month besides February.   
  
Remy LeBeau grimaced, feeling his hair and nearly-bearded jaw, as his red on black eyes, hidden by the shades and crossed with one graceful scar, scanned the area like a person with OCD. These days, it was vital that the locals didn't recognise you as a mutant.   
  
His hands, sheathed in fingerless black leather gloves, were in his duster pocket, lightly touching the pack of cards he had filched several towns back. His other pocket held marbles, pebbles and other possible projectiles. He'd used up most of his ammo in a run-in with a 'roadblock' some days ago that had demanded his bike. He hated having to restock, since it usually meant raiding abandoned houses, which in turn meant finding bodies.  
  
It wasn't so much the deaths that bothered him, nor the various stages of decay he found people in. Rather, it was his own damn soft-heartedness. Remy never felt he could just leave a corpse to the elements, and made it his business to bury any poor soul he found. That ate into his road-time, putting hours on every journey and setting his progress back something chronic.  
  
Satisfied that the town was abandoned, he hopped onto his bike and searched for a gas station that might have fuel and a possible place to hide for a couple of days.   
  
He couldn't remember a time that he got more than four hours of broken sleep, and even then he had been lucky.   
  
The Colorado air was soaking through his duster and he shivered, staring at the mountains on the far-distant horizon. He needed to stock up fuel soon - and there was no telling when he would reach another station on this seemingly endless trip.   
  
Several hours later, outside an abandoned fuel station where he'd filled his bike's tank full, he curled up into the ratty blanket kept in his small pack of belongings. His bo lay next to him, as was his protective habit, and he fell into an uneasy sleep, body so alert that even a mouse's sneeze would have sent him crashing back to wakefulness.  
  
Remy hadn't survived so long alone on the road by being sloppy.  
  
*******************  
  
Peter was excessively glad that, while the rest of his garish costume had been ripped, torn, burned and otherwise ruined, his mask had stayed intact. Something felt wrong about letting these people see his face. He found himself not wanting them to know who he really was, and so was, for the first time, also glad on Magneto's insistence they use only codenames as identification. It was Spider-Man fighting his way out of that dingy prison; Spider-Man thwacking aside mutants that were barely children, not Peter Parker. Parker was safe somewhere with MJ, not here instigating a prison riot, escaping with a man missing quite a few sandwiches from his picnic basket, and a cluster of mutants he'd been battling to the death not a few hours earlier.   
  
He caught a flying punch some nameless citizen threw, refraining from harming the owner just for violence's sake. Instead, he twisted the arm around, flipping his assailant over his back and catapulting her into his erstwhile cell with a crash that would leave her unconscious long enough she wouldn't re-enter the fray anytime soon.   
  
"Make for the exit," he called, not entirely sure to whom he was addressing the order.   
  
He only did it because it felt like someone should say something. Magneto wasn't saying much of much and both Wolfsbane and Dazzler were otherwise engaged with their own problems.   
  
Dazzler! Her lights mostly useless, she'd been backed into a corner by one of the resident Jamies in this town. Another two, including what Spider-Man assumed to be the original, stood off to one side, circling like wolves around prey. Dazzler tried her best to fight back against the Jamie, but he was obviously well-versed in fighting, and had a sword on his side to boot.   
  
Using the momentum of a flip, Spider-Man carried himself over to the duelling pair, landing square in front of the clone. "I really hate to do this," he said, drawing back a fist and punching hard enough to send the Jamie and newly created clones flying backwards into - and then *through* - the rickety wooden wall, "but you *did* say you weren't our Jamie."   
  
Thank you.  
  
The words appeared in the air next to his ear, and Spider-Man gave them a precursory nod before turning and scooping Dazzler into his arms. Surprised, she opened her mouth to squeal, but all that came out was a burst of brilliant light and colour.   
  
"New plan," he shouted above the din. "Head for *that* exit!"   
  
And without further ado, he bounded through the makeshift opening, over the cluster of Jamies, and into the moonlit street beyond.  
  
*******************  
  
It was a brawl by the time Kurt got there. Apparently, not all of the residents of Mutie Town were happy with their lot. Those that were content - or at least halfway to being so - were trying to get the rest to stay.   
  
And in that mess, in that chaos, were his people.   
  
Mutants everywhere. All fighting to get out, or to keep the others in.   
  
Except one.   
  
Magneto stood in the middle of it all, looking like a man who had lost everything and was watching the rest of the world turn into ash. He was just *waiting* for a stray shot to finish him, and his dreams, forever.   
  
The Fates' message burning in his brain, Kurt tackled the bigger man. "Don't you *dare* try to die, Arschgesicht[2]! You could stop all this in a *moment* and we both know it!"   
  
Magneto's eyes were despondent. "How? What can I do that won't hurt things further?"  
  
"Lift that verdammt bus! Get the Kinder - the children on it! *NOW*!"   
  
Maybe it was the voice of authority. Maybe it was the urgency, the need in his tone, or the wildness of his eye... but something made the Master of Magnetism obey.   
  
The bus, stripped of its engine and anything not welded down, floated gently into the air.   
  
Kurt fought his way through the masses, flipping over heads, vaulting fighters, and landing in front of his own.  
  
"Kurti!" Robyn cried, launching herself at him from behind Raven's thing-with-teeth guise.  
  
"Liebes! Quickly," Kurt said, grabbing her and gesturing to the others before they had time to question his arrival or what he'd said to the Council. "Everybody inside, *now*!"  
  
They loaded Kitty, Hope, Ariel, Robyn and Daisy in first. Then Kurt cupped his hands around his mouth and used his best ringmaster voice.   
  
"ATCHUNG! ANYONE WANTING THE HELL OUT OF MUTIE TOWN - GEKOMMEN SIE! I HAVE A FREE RIDE FOR ANYONE WANTING FREEDOM!" He took a breath. "COME ONE, COME ALL, AN EXPRESS TRIP TO THE GREEN LANDS OF THE GODDESS ORORO!"   
  
Kurt had to leap clean onto a nearby wall to get clear of the influx of people.   
  
*That* certainly got 'em...  
  
*******************  
  
Rogue jolted as many bodies rushed past her and fell to her knees, only to be caught by a pair of blue arms.   
  
"Keep your feet," Raven told her sharply, "or you won't have any left to keep."   
  
They heard Kurt's desperate shout and were swept along in the wake of it, crushed against the side of the bus until Rogue cried out in pain. Raven tightened her grip on her daughter, but startled as Rogue slid gloved hands under her arms and *lifted* her into the air.   
  
Raven gawked as the two of them skittered up the side of the bus, Rogue 'borrowing' Kurt's powers for a few precious seconds until they were safely atop the metal behemoth. There, they quickly found the smashed window Logan had used to taunt Wolfsbane and slipped through it.   
  
The bus was almost completely stripped of its innards, bar the seating; and even then, one of the chairs was missing. All their belongings had either been ransacked, or else were still in the building they'd so recently left. Yet there was no time to go back for them, and instead the woman and girl ran down the stairs and grabbed their own, hoisting the children onto the second level and staving off those poor escaping Mutie Towners whose desperation was making them violent and unmindful of others.   
  
"S'like a damn cage in here," Rogue gritted, hauling Daisy and Robyn up the steps as Ariel pattered after them.   
  
Raven was too busy shielding Kitty and Hope to answer.   
  
"A'right, comin' through. Move over!" a familiar gruff voice sounded out, and then there was Logan, dragging a struggling Alvin with him.   
  
"My cart! My plants! I can't leave the green!"   
  
Logan grunted, but didn't halt. "If I was of a disposition to let you get torn to shreds in this rush, then I'd gladly letcha go back for yer cart, God Boy. But I'm not, so shut up and get with the movin'."   
  
"Logan," Raven called, "over here!"   
  
The two men fought their way over and up the stairs, just as the first few trickles of mutants started heading up that way.   
  
"One at a time, you lot," Logan snarled, depositing Alvin with the shapeshifter and setting himself up to police the stairwell. "Plenty enough room fer ev'ryone, so no shovin', or I'll shove all of ya right out the door."   
  
He sounded serious, and the crowd began to lull, whispering to each other as they found seats and huddled onto them.   
  
Logan nodded; guiding and directing all those who sought passage to Ororo's lands - or just plain out of Mutie Town.   
  
*******************  
  
Robyn shuddered, a scared little bundle of puffed out fur in Rogue's arms. Beside her, Daisy sat likewise in the embrace of Raven, while Alvin and Ariel sat in the seat in front of them.   
  
The zealot was weeping for his lost cart, aching loss made worse by the fact that he could understand why he couldn't go back for his beloved plants and religious texts. Ariel did his best to soothe him, laying a webbed hand on the older man's arm.   
  
Rogue squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds of other people's thoughts in such close quarters. Layla had visited her while in 'prison', and explained her theories as to her evolving mutation. Having seen what she'd seen in the last few days, Rogue was willing to believe her, too.   
  
That didn't make it any easier to deal with.   
  
How the hell had those telepaths up at the Xavier Institute *coped*?   
  
In her arms, Robyn twitched. "Rogue? Rogue, where are they?"   
  
"Where are who?" Rogue gritted through clenched teeth.   
  
Robyn wiped at her little pink nose, whiskers quivering. Her voice sounded slightly panicked and rose an octave. "Kurti and Pie-Pie. Where are Kurti and Pie-Pie?"  
  
*******************  
  
Peter hurried as he passed Wolfsbane up to Raven, hanging onto the bus side with his feet. The lupine girl took the outstretched hand, but didn't look too happy about it. They needed to get out ASAP, since many of the Mutie Towners looked... unstable.   
  
Magneto wasn't looking much better, but at least he was willing to help.   
  
Peter nearly fell when someone whacked his foot. Looking down, he saw the blue elf-thing, who was outside of the bus again, helping others to board undamaged.   
  
"Here," he said, passing up a small child with silver hair and, oddly enough, canine-esque ears peeking out.   
  
"Let me have him," Raven said, leaning out of the busted window to haul the three-year-old inside. "Kurt, we need to get out of here, and *soon*"   
  
Kurt whirled to face the crowd that was still outside of the bus, worried. "I *know*."   
  
Alvin had taken the child from Raven, and though still upset about his cart, he began to calm himself in order to quiet the crying child.   
  
Raven, looking outside again after Peter clambered through the window, suddenly froze. "Where did Kurt go?"   
  
Peter looked back down, eyes scanning for the Elf, then swore.   
  
"I've got a bad feeling about this [3]."   
  
*******************  
  
Pietro watched the screams and the disorder. It didn't bother him unduly. It was just more chaos and death. Death and chaos. It followed him wherever he went - another thing he couldn't run from.   
  
Kurt was extremely relieved when he saw him, staring out at the pandemonium from a doorway he'd huddled himself into. He rushed towards the crouching silver figure, trying to avoid the various punches and blows thrown in his direction. Layla had done her job well, and it would be many a year before he lost the acrobatic skills he had gained in the circus.   
  
He reached the silent speedster. "Come on!" Kurt growled, grabbing Pietro's skinny arm. "We've gotta get going!"  
  
  
  
"Why? Where?"  
  
  
  
"We..." He paused. Dammit, he'd forgotten about Magneto. How was he supposed to work this between disowned son and father?   
  
Might as well be honest.   
  
"I've gotten Magneto to raise the bus. He's going to take us to the Lands of New Hope."  
  
"Why? How?"  
  
"I don't know, and frankly I don't care. We'll deal with that bridge when we get to it, but right now we have to go!"  
  
"But he hates me, I'm not his son - "  
  
Kurt paused long enough to grip Pietro's shoulders and shake him. "Maybe not, but you're *my* brother. We're still family, Pietro, and I won't leave family behind. Not ever."  
  
  
  
Pietro turned and looked into Kurt's wide, pleading eyes. There was something there that might pertain to violence in others, but somehow just made Kurt look even more determined.   
  
"All right," he sighed, hauling himself to his feet. "But... but I still can't run with this ankle. The crowd - "  
  
  
  
"Pie-Pie, I'll frikkin' *carry* you if I have to, but we have to go *now*."   
  
Good as his word, Kurt picked Pietro up and he slung his slight form over his back, silently thanking Layla again for doing her job so well.   
  
"Hold on tight."   
  
Then he fell onto all fours and was running again.   
  
A few years ago he would never have considered this; running along with someone on his back, like some donkey or other pack animal. Now, however, with bedlam breaking out all around him, Kurt knew didn't have much choice, and dutifully careened towards the masses once more.   
  
He only stopped when a familiar pale figure stepped across their path.   
  
"You're leaving, then." It wasn't so much a question as a statement.   
  
Grasshopper stood tall, all four arms folded. Behind him, the pandemonium was starting to abate a little at Logan's efforts. Still, many mutants crowded towards the bus, and many more continued to hold them back, crying for order and the sanctity of Mutie Town's secrecy.   
  
Kurt couldn't stand up properly, but stared with hard eyes. "Yes. The Fates gave me permission to take my people out of here."   
  
Grasshopper nodded, as if he already knew, but waved a hand at the melee. "And what of the others? What of *my* people? Did they give you permission to take them too?"   
  
Kurt made as if to snap, and then caught his tongue.   
  
Had they? Not in so many words, but surely... the Three Ladies had seemed so understanding, surely they knew how these poor folk felt being trapped out here in this dead end of a safe-town.   
  
Yet truth had always been something Kurt prided himself on, and so he shook his head. "No... not in so many words. I just thought... they deserved to make their own decisions. For once," he added, then wondered if he should've done, judging by the strange look in Grasshopper's coal-black eyes.   
  
For a moment nothing was said. Around them, the sounds of fighting, shouting and cursing rang on, accompanied by in incessant hum of Magneto's power. The bus hung suspended not a foot off the ground.   
  
Then, slowly, Grasshopper nodded, greasy hair flopping into his eyes and across his careworn face. "I just did as I was told," he said in a low voice, and Kurt respectfully kept silent. "Ever since the day... it happened; the day the humans left this place to us mutants, I did what I thought was best for the people here. Perhaps keeping residents hostage wasn't the best plan in the world, but it was the only way I could think to do as the Fates said and keep everybody safe." He raised his eyes, casting them over the ruined buildings, as if drinking in the battered sight. "Dictatorship?" he said softly, and then shook his head. "Perhaps it *is* time..."   
  
And with that, he turned and flew swiftly to the bus, leaving Kurt in the dust to follow as best he could.   
  
Once there, Grasshopper perched atop the giant vehicle and held up his arms, letting out a high-pitched noise so loud it could only have been due to his mutation. It was followed by a shout.  
  
"*STOP*!"   
  
It was like someone had pressed the great pause button of life, and everybody froze at the thunderous voice. Even Magneto looked up, though his hold over the bus didn't slip an inch.   
  
Grasshopper looked around, taking in the faces he'd come to know over the past four years. There was Scry, standing unsteadily towards the back next to Layla. Probably been drinking with Sneak and Bairn again, the fool. Nearer the front, Bairn herself sat on a large rock, allowing the multitudes to swarm around her like an ever-flowing sea, while Bubbles stood like a bodyguard by her side. Redeye, the Jamies - even Sneak had made himself visible enough to be noticed and counted.  
  
They all trusted him, believed in his prowess as leader. Now it was time to prove to them that what he did was for their benefit, whatever that might be.   
  
"People, please, listen to me." His authoritative voice boomed out, consuming the air and rattling the atmosphere like shells in a tin can. "Do *not* stop those who wish to leave. The Council has decreed that everybody here today - mutant or human - should be entitled to his or her own choice. Mutie Town is not a prison, nor was it ever meant to be. If you or I stop them from leaving, we're no more than those who sought to kill us with the virus four years ago."   
  
A murmur went through the crowd, and some looked confused. "The Council said that?" asked one.   
  
Grasshopper nodded, allowing himself the whitest of lies. "Freedom is a birthright. We all forgot that Mutie Town was originally constructed to embody that freedom for Mutantkind. We - I," he amended, "got too caught up in safety and forgot about just plain *living*. Well, no more. If anybody wishes to stay, then they're more than welcome, but I won't stop anybody from seeking passage to the Goddess' lands."   
  
More muttering. A ripple went through the crowd. "Will you be going, Grasshopper?" It was Scry, and Grasshopper looked down at his old friend.   
  
"No. My place is, was, and will always be right here."   
  
Scry shouted at the top of his lungs, words only slightly slurred. "I choose Mutie Town. All those who do likewise should stand back and let those who want to leave onto the bus."   
  
"Right now!" Layla added, then shrugged at Scry's surprised expression. "What? You're going to need a healer here, sure enough. I'm assuming Mutie Town'll stay open for anybody wanting to join it?"   
  
Grasshopper fluttered down to land by her side and took the greying mutant's hand in his own. For the first time in long, long while, he gave a genuine smile. "That it will, Layla. That it will."   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] New Orleans, for those who don't know (and this makes pretty good useless trivia), is below sea level. That's why they all freak out when a hurricane heads that way. Also, people are buried in vaults for this reason - if N.O. went under, I *think* some of the coffins in the ground will actually float. No lie.   
  
[2] Literally 'ass face'. Or, in more colloquial terms, 'butt-head'.  
  
[3] A line in almost every Star Wars movie. Sorry - couldn't resist. 


	37. Cloudburst

A/N ~ Well, isn't that nice. Finally get the files fixed and Fanfiction.net goes whacko. Things were a bit hairy for a minute there, weren't they? It all came out in the wash, though.   
  
On a lighter note, I found out Fox Kids UK is playing Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors on late night scheduling. Yay, 1980s Golden Age cartoon sci-fi. I love 80s cartoons. My Little Pony, Jayce, Care Bears, Moondreamers, Charmkins, Ulysses 31, Sylvanian Families – the stuff I was raised on. Just as a point of interest, does anyone else remember this show? Or any other good 80s cartoons I failed to mention here? Tell me in reviews! I like reminiscing.   
  
Nessie6 ~ Gambit, yes. Romy… don't think so, but from the way it's written that could be open to interpretation. Quite honestly, Romy bores me. Back in the early 90s when the original cartoon series got me hooked on X-Men, I would squeal in fangirlish glee whenever a smidgen of Romy appeared, but now… meh, it's been done to death. Originality is the key. And yes, that was Warren.  
  
Rurouni Tyriel ~ New Mutant goodness? Gimmie! *Cracks whip*  
  
Yuki ~ Your review is greatly appreciated, Yuki. As for the meaning behind 'wotcher', I always understood it as a truncated version of 'what are you?' or 'what have you?' Basically, what's up? How are you? Are you okay?  
  
Gerri ~ Indeed, you have knocked the Grasshopper vs. Magneto scenario squarely on the noggin. I applaud you for that. And you're very good at articulating your ideas, so don't get any notions to the contrary, y'hear?   
  
Lady Iapetus, Roving Wanderer ~ Got it in one. You can thank Klutz for that little side-fling. *Sniff* I wish they're release Inuyasha in the UK.  
  
Hootild ~ Yes, Remy has poor-but-sexy English. I'd take his most wandering of wandering Cajun accents over Brummy drawl any day. For anyone who doesn't know, Brummy basically means Birmingham (the English variety). Can't stand the bloody accent, or anything remotely like it. Which isn't so good, since I live smack bang in the middle of Midlands Accents Ground Zero, and my father is Wulfrunian (vaguely like Birmingham accent). Honestly, I hurry past people in the supermarket biting my tongue so I don't shout at them and show myself up. Ugh, ugh, ugh…  
  
DemonRogue13 ~ The Ragin' Cajun is in da house! Sorry, couldn't resist.  
  
Ezrajade ~ Again, the New Orleans trivia was from Klutz. What I wouldn't give to visit the place and see it for myself, though…  
  
Tenshiamanda ~ So if Remy's your second favourite, then who's your actual favourite mutant?  
  
UnknownSource ~ We see a lot more of Wolfsbane and Peter in this chapter, so I hope they continue to endear themselves to you. Rogue, too, though not because she's popped it. Oops, said too much…  
  
Cheesy Monkey ~ A crazed muppet? And how, pray tell, is this different from a normal muppet? Hee hee, that reminds me of something Hank McCoy said in an old comic I won't look out right now. Somebody screamed when they saw him and called him an animal, to which he replied, deadpan – "The name is Beast, my dear lady, not animal. Animal is a muppet."  
  
Yodelbean ~ I blame you that I've been walking around proclaiming things to be 'mightily befrigged' lately. But yes, it is indeed prodigious that my dissertation survived. No way in hell am I going to go around collecting all that data again. Thirty five-year-old children to be interviewed in a single afternoon… *shudders* ICU? I shall bring you flowers.   
  
Yma ~ To be sure, our ficcery will wrap up soon enough. You're excited and you already know what happens? Hmm. Shhh about the 'extras'. Don't want to spoil the surprise, now, do we?  
  
Ice Princess ~ Uniqueness rules the day! I get called unique a lot. I get called special, too. Hmm, I'm sensing a pattern here… No, I didn't fall off the face of the earth, just over a vacuum (seriously, I broke my little toe for the third time since last Summer).   
  
Ambrosia ~ Arschgesicht is a real word. My Grandmother uses it all the time. I think it's more translatable to 'your face looks like a bum', 'you have an ass for a face' than actually 'butthead', but that seemed one people would be more likely to understand. See above for my feelings on Romy. Justice League deserves no ridicule! Apart from the fact that it might be a reason behind why XME got cancelled, it's well-made and has great scripts and voice-work. I like that show. Granted, 'A Savage Time' pissed me off greatly because of the prevalent negative German image (though they did redeem themselves with the line I can't quite remember bu ran akin to 'We're not evil'), but the second season makes me feel better. Phil LaMarr rocks my socks. He voices Green Lantern and Virgil Hawkins of Static Shock, another show I like.   
  
AerinBrown ~ I know I'd wait for the next bus if that one came to my stop. "Uh, no, it's okay. I'll wait for the 543…"  
  
The Phantom ~ Spoons are evil. Nothing else to it. Sporks are better. I found a great phrase akin to the picnic basket idiom the other day, by the way. 'A few tinnies short of a six pack'. And yes, poor Alvin. *Straightens Alvin's hat from where Phantom squashed it with patting*.   
  
*******************  
  
Thirty-seventh Fragment ~ Cloudburst  
  
*******************  
  
"Y'know what?"   
  
"No. What?"   
  
Kitty pressed one hand against the glass, almost as if she was watching Mutie Town dwindle away beneath them. Beside her, Rogue's face was blank, but her dark eyes were quick and discerning over and around the new mutants crammed aboard the bus.   
  
There were around thirty of them, all told. Some sat, some stood, some clung to the walls and ceiling as only mutants could. Of all those recognisable by name, only Bairn had come along for the ride. Layla, Scry, Sneak et al had elected to stay behind with Grasshopper, leaving the rest to choose as they would.   
  
Rogue still wasn't sure about them, herself. There was a desperation about these people that pressed against her brain, and she gritted her teeth against the mental onslaught that came form being in such close quarters with so many living, breathing bodies. Crude psychic shielding of her own untutored design stood around the core of her mind, but still she was subject to many thoughts, dreams and memories she really didn't want.   
  
So it was that, when Kitty suddenly spoke, Rogue was more than willing to indulge in the distraction.   
  
Kitty, with Hope nestled in her arms, sighed and caressed her baby girl. Hope was grizzling, but seemed peaceful enough, considering. "I feel sorry for them. They're like the Last Stand, y'know? Grasshopper and the other who stayed behind - they feel like they've got to stay there, just... just in case somebody needs them. Imagine, being trapped like that in a place like that."   
  
Rogue nodded. "But it was their choice. They chose to no to come with us."   
  
Curiously, Kitty shook her head. "Did they? I'm not so sure anymore." She sighed again and wrapped Hope a little tighter. "Rogue, what happened?"   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
"Life used to be so simple. I thought this trip was supposed to make things better for all of us, not more complicated. Fates, internal politics, this weirdo Magneto and his goons - I don't like them, by the way."   
  
"Me neither, but don't say that too loud. One of 'em might hear."   
  
Kitty bobbed her head. "That Wolfsbane creeps me out, especially. She just so... so..."   
  
"Wild?" Rogue tapped the side of her head. "I bumped into her earlier. Her mind's all jumbled an' half-feral. A mess."   
  
"Why does that not surprise me? No, I shouldn't say things like that. I mean, we don't, like, know why she's the way she is. Come to think of it, we don't know much about *any* of those guys."   
  
"Other than they tried to kill us over Pietro?"   
  
"Other than they killed us over Pietro."   
  
Rogue looked over her shoulder to where the cluster of Acolytes were huddled together a few seats back. Magneto was absent from their midst, since he was outside directing the now-flying bus.   
  
"There's somethin' odd about the one in the gaudy suit..." she said after a moment. "What's his name - Human-Spider[1]? His mind don't quite ring true, an' I kept getting' flashes of memory from him durin' the fight."   
  
"Like what?"   
  
"Family stuff, mostly; this girl with red hair, college, some strange images of spiders. Kinda freaky, but no more than any of us, I suppose." She gritted her teeth, and her voice dropped to a whisper, lest someone else hear her. "But the weird thing is... keep this under your hat, but I don't think he's a mutant."  
  
  
  
"Say what? With those powers of his?"  
  
  
  
"Powers or not, he don't... don't..." She searched for appropriate words. "He don't feel right."  
  
Kitty frowned. "So what is he, then? Human?"   
  
Rogue glanced at Alvin sceptically. "Maybe," she allowed, and then sighed. "I dunno. Maybe he's an alien from another planet. Do you think ol' bucket head knows?"  
  
  
  
"What? About him being an alien?"  
  
"Wiseass."  
  
Kitty smiled thinly and shook her head. "Doubt it. And I don't think we should tell him. There may be nothing to it, and it's not really our place, y'know?"  
  
  
  
Rogue nodded and fell silent, watching Mutie Town fall into the hazy distance and wondering how long their journey would last from here.  
  
*******************  
  
Ariel gulped.   
  
Somehow, he'd become separated from the people he knew, and now someone they'd been fighting with previously was attempting to become friendly.   
  
Very, *very* friendly.   
  
"No hard feelin's, eh?" she said. "All *is* in love an' war, y'know. An' t' me, they seem mighty close together." One talon unzipped his jacket, and her hand snuck inside to feel his shirt and the chest underneath.   
  
Ariel tried to escape through the wall at his back. "I'm only twelve," he said, and grasped for something to deflect her attentions, landing on the hated nickname that had kept him alive before. "A water-baby..."   
  
"Time ye became a water *man*, then," she said, leaning in to kiss him.  
  
A flash of pain. Wolfsbane looked up to the source, drawing back her claws...   
  
Ah yes, Dazzler, looking properly indignant. But what else was to be expected from such a proper little miss? Red, jagged letters spelled out her message   
  
HOW DARE YOU!?  
  
Wolfsbane lowered her hand and smiled amiably, which didn't do much to hide her fangs. Then she sat up, brushed herself off and patted Ariel playfully on the head.   
  
"Just havin' a bit o' fun," she replied, voice muted by Dazzler's constant sound-dampening field. She met the other girl's challenging gaze, quite aware of many eyes on the two of them - one pair of them Spider's.   
  
Dazzler narrowed her eyes, and the words faded. Only the brightly glowing dancing light motes betrayed her anger still, and she turned on her heel to move both herself and Ariel to another seat.  
  
As Ariel, still cowering, glanced back over his shoulder, Wolfsbane winked and jumped onto Dazzler's back, eager to prove who was the dominant female once and for all.   
  
Dazzler hit the deck with a meaty thump. A burst of light spewed from her open mouth. Glowering, she swung around and clocked Wolfsbane once on the side of the head, getting a bloodied hand for her troubles.   
  
A tattered sleeve dangling from her lips, Wolfsbane grinned down at her teammate, then made a choking noise as a strong pair of hands grabbed the scruff of her neck and hoisted her into the air.  
  
Logan brought his face close, ignoring the snarls and flying spittle. "No fightin'," he said simply. "Had enough of that a'ready."  
  
Wolfsbane growled, top lip rippling in as threatening manner as his ever could. "Don't get involved where your ain't wanted, Pops."  
  
{SNIKT}  
  
A long silvery claw poked tellingly at the side of her neck, and she winced, trying not to move as it pressed against her jugular.   
  
"Whatcha do on your own turf don't bother me none, kid. But so long as you're on this here bus, y'tow the line, understand? Else me an Mr. Pointy [2] here get real up close an' personal with y'insides."  
  
Wolfsbane made a noise that could've passed for an affirmative. She was promptly dropped like a sack of potatoes.  
  
Dazzler smiled smugly, getting to her feet and leading Ariel away to the proverbial safer waters.   
  
Wolfsbane snarled, and made as if to huck a gob after them, only stopping when she caught Logan's eye again. She swallowed the saliva, grumbling profusely, and made her way to sit at the opposite end of the bus where she could maybe get a little peace. People moved aside as she passed.   
  
A droplet of thin, gauzy webbing fluttered to her feet. She looked up to where Spider was hanging upside-down from the roof, cocking a jaunty grin his way and only shrugging when he ignored it.  
  
A hand jutted into the aisle, catching her wrist. She might have snarled, might even have bitten it off had the feel of Logan's fingertips not still been fresh and tingling on her skin. So instead she simply looked at the owner, curling her lip in disgust when she saw it was one of Quicksilver's little buddies.  
  
The pale girl had haunted eyes. She stared at Wolfsbane with something akin to pity. Needless to say, that didn't go down so well, and the lycanthrope jerked her wrist away, growling.  
  
"What're *you* lookin' at, skunk-head?"  
  
"He's taken."  
  
The words startled her. She blinked a second before answering. "What're yeh talkin' about?" she demanded - though somehow she already knew, and didn't need the subtle gesture to the figure on the ceiling.   
  
"He was taken long before you met 'im," the pale girl said. "Lost his heart a long time ago, an' nuthin' you do will ever make him yours, Rahne."  
  
Wolfsbane started, taken aback by the use of her real name; her true name, the name she'd given up the day Magneto gave her a new chance of life on Asteroid M.   
  
Then her anger returned and she leaned forward, placing a hand on the rail and invading the pale girl's personal space. "The name," she whispered fiercely, "is Wolfsbane."  
  
The pale girl didn't even flinch or draw back. She just stared with those sad eyes of hers, and suddenly Wolfsbane couldn't bear to be near her anymore. It was abrupt, a snapping of barriers, like those troubled eyes could suddenly see past her exterior. They saw past the half-shifted form and wild instincts - everything she'd been left with the when the mob led by her own father cast her out as an abomination and left her to die on a mountaintop. She had become all external, refuting the internal, but those eyes, so loaded with pity, dragged it kicking and screaming back into the light.  
  
Wordless, she drew back and stalked away, conscious of the gazes she drew, but sparing a glance only for the gaudy figure suspended from the roof.  
  
He didn't even acknowledge the look.  
  
She plonked herself down with a growl that might have been a sob, had it not been so ferocious and absolutely savage.  
  
*******************  
  
In the corner of the bus, as far away from Magneto as possible, Logan plopped back down next to Alvin and Pietro.   
  
The boy was covered from head to toe in a ratty blanket, and lay against the battered wall, looking little more than a pile of rags. Occasionally he whimpered to himself, or whispered soft words. He seemed to be sleeping.  
  
Logan cast him a sidelong glance after watching the irritable wolfgirl find a new seat. That was needed watching, but his attention was divided between her and his own.   
  
She didn't even stand a chance.  
  
He pulled Alvin to one side and nodded at Pietro. "Kid's gonna get better, ain't he?"   
  
"With time," Alvin sighed. "I fear the road may be long and hard. Yet, if I have learned anything from my Goddess - and this trip - then it's that love heals all things, and Pietro certainly has more than enough of that in his friends and new family."  
  
Logan snorted, letting Alvin know exactly what he thought of *that* idea.   
  
"Come now, my friend," Alvin smiled. "You of all people should be agreeing with me."  
  
"Don't see why. I got my healin' factor, and I ain't never had much love. I got along fine, though."  
  
"Did you? You may not be mad, my friend, but I can see that you're not being entirely truthful. I don't think I'd be wrong in saying that the cuts on your mind may have healed, but the scars remain, and that they inhibit you greatly." He shrugged. "The children love you as a father, but that's not enough. Perhaps one day you'll know the love of another again, and then all will be as it should."  
  
  
  
"Yeah, suuuurree," Logan drawled, folding his arms and propping his feet on the chair in front of them. "I'd like to hear your theory on that one, preacher. Who'd be interested in this old hermit? Nah, been on my own too long now to travel that path again. Got no time for gettin' twitter-pated."  
  
Alvin gave a furtive smile, and looked pointedly in Raven's direction.   
  
Logan followed his gaze. Then he grumped again, mumbling something that sounded like "Yeahrightwhatever".  
  
The zealot's smile did not abate.  
  
Pietro shivered. Alvin broke off smiling to tend to the boy. He wasn't cold, but seemed to have picked up the habit every time an unwelcome thought came to him. Alvin wasn't blind to how Rogue twitched or looked around whenever the erstwhile speedster engaged in shuddering, but chose not to comment.   
  
Logan folded his arms and settled back to watch Magneto's goons chunter amongst themselves. Or not, as the case may be. Their group seemed disjointed, with nobody talking to anybody else if they could possibly help it, and few words being exchanged with anyone else around them, either. Wolfsbane in particular seemed to have the verbal equivalent of a brick wall around her, with people actually looking away, or else glowering in her general direction rather than speak.   
  
Ariel was sat near them. He looked solidly at the floor, avoiding everyone as best he could. Somehow, he'd been separated from the rest of their party in the scuffle to climb on board the bus, and now he looked decidedly uncomfortable with his placing, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket and biting his scaly little lips until Logan was sure they would bleed.   
  
Sighing to himself, the gruff mutant looked out of the window at the countryside streaking past. He wondered how long it would be before they reached the Lands of New Hope, or whatever it was Ororo was calling her turf, now.   
  
Ororo.   
  
The pang that thought elicited was sharp and intense, and Logan winced despite himself. Ororo had been his friend for a long time, and it hurt to think that they might not reach her before she... before she died.   
  
Death.   
  
Such an alien concept to him, and yet so familiar. Death was a long way from Logan's doorstep, and yet every day he seemed to come across it, step over it, walk through it, breathe it in. It was a part of the world now, just like the sky, the water, or the air.   
  
_Hold on, 'Ro. Don't you dare die 'afore we get there._   
  
*******************  
  
Seer crouched outside the door. He jumped up when the human woman known as Maive emerged. Her clothing was simple but meticulously clean, as befitted one nursing the ailing.  
  
"How is she?" he asked, thick tail swinging in agitation.   
  
Maive sighed and folded her hands in a nervous gesture. "She's getting weaker, and she refuses to just rest, even though she can't leave her bed now."   
  
"Can't leave her bed?" Seer's eyes widened. "Is it... that bad already?" He looked at the floor. In what his life had become, Ororo was a pillar. She was his mainstay, his ageless strength. That someday she would be gone was not a new concept, but in those short words from a flustered nurse they hammered home as they had never done before. "I had no idea..."   
  
"She's very frail, Seer, though you wouldn't know it the way she pushes herself. She's insistent about her microclimate, or something, and it was all I could do to get her to take the sleeping pills without crawling away."   
  
He allowed himself a small smirk at Ororo's stubbornness, but his eyes were troubled, and he swallowed hard. "Can I... can I see her?   
  
Maive chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she sighed. "For a few minutes, yes. The pills are only just taking effect, so she'll be drowsy, and I don't want her overexerting herself any more than she has to." She pushed open the battered bedroom door and stood aside for him to pass.   
  
"Thank you, Maive."  
  
She nodded, turning her face away, but he didn't miss her distressed mutter. "Goddess keep us all..."  
  
The bedroom had been ransacked long ago, yet the gilt on the wall panelling was still intact, and it held a ghostly aura of sumptuousness. Almost like a room remembering, really. The bed was a four-post variety, left there only because it was too difficult to move, and Ororo looked tiny and fragile in the centre. Her white hair, spread liberally across the pillow, gave the impression of a ghoul, and her thin, wan face didn't little to alleviate the notion.  
  
"Seer?"   
  
"I'm here." He crouched by her side and carefully stroked her withered hand. She seemed to have aged since he saw her this morning, and his chest grew tight at her ragged breathing. He had to be swift, before the drugs took effect. "Ororo, I had another Vision. A visual one. Ororo," he leaned in close as he eyelids flickered, "they're coming."   
  
"They are?" Whether she fully understood or not was unclear, but she smiled. "Then... maybe all is not lost, after all... The microclimate, Seer. I must... fix... the microclimate... for the plants..." Her hand went limp even as she spoke, and her breathing balanced out a little as she slept.   
  
Seer stood up, replacing her arm beneath the covers. He stroked her head, talons incongruously large and powerful against her stark white hair and worried brow. "Sleep, now. They'll be here soon. They're coming to help you."   
  
He glanced out of the window at the darkening sky. It threatened rain - maybe even a storm. The oppressive air hereabouts looked ready for it, and he stroked her hair once more as she shivered.   
  
*******************  
  
Peter frowned. Out of almost everyone on the bus, he had been the only one really watching Magneto outside. He had been doing so more out of a need to ignore the two female Acolytes than out of actual concern or interest, but now he was beginning to wonder. Beads of sweat had developed on their leader's brow, and he was beginning to look strained, like something was wrong.   
  
"Uh, sir," Peter called out, twisting to the floor and leaning out of the broken window, "are you okay?"  
  
Magneto opened his eyes a fraction. "Storm's brewing," he grunted. "Some electromagnetic interference. Nothing I can't handle. At the moment, anyway."   
  
Peter, thinking it best not to distract his leader any further, fell silent and moved back into the bus.   
  
He nearly yelped in shock when he saw that someone had joined him.   
  
A little girl, covered in green scales, peacock-blue feathers and a wide grin was looking up at him curiously.   
  
"Uh... hi," he said, unsure of how else to respond to this strangest of children.   
  
"Hi," said the kid. "Name's Daisy. What's yours?"  
  
"Uh, um," he said, intelligent to the last.   
  
"'Uh-um'? What's yer real name?" she insisted with a bluntness that was almost shocking.   
  
"Spider-Man."  
  
"Don't play games with me."  
  
He blinked at her, and then smiled in spite of himself. "Peter."  
  
"'At's better." 'Daisy' cocked her head to one side, making her feathers rustle.   
  
Some distance to his left, Peter heard Wolfsbane growl something unintelligible, and made a quick decision to hustle the little girl further away from his teammate.   
  
Daisy squeaked, but greeted his administrations with a curious blink when he lifted her into the crude, hastily constructed hammock he'd strung from the ceiling. Her voice was exceptionally young sounding, but her tone was infected with a sort of maturity that made him wonder just what horrors she'd seen in the world while he'd been sleeping on Asteroid M.   
  
"S'funny, you don't look like a Peter." She pawed at his mask, which was torn and battered, but still clung to most of his face like some determined limpet, refusing to let go and give up the ghost. "I heard the others calling you Spider-Man, but I knew it weren't your real name. Y'know, before. During the big fight?"   
  
"You were there?" Now it was Peter's turn to be surprised, and he blinked under his mask as Daisy nodded.   
  
"My Mommy was the one fighting you. That's her over there, an' my sister Robyn, an' my brother Kurti, an' my other brother Pie-Pie, an' my big sister Rogue..." She pointed to each in turn. Peter drank them in.   
  
These folk were a family unit? They didn't look like it. Well, except for the blue woman and furry boy who'd kicked his spidery butt - what had Daisy called him, Kirri? Carrot? They looked like they might be related, but the others were all completely dissimilar.   
  
Then again, if there was one thing he'd learned from mutants, it was that you couldn't go by appearances.   
  
Daisy went on, oblivious to the fact that she was divulging secrets and identities to an erstwhile enemy. "That over there is Logan - he's my Fairy Godfather. He found me an' made me new clothes." She scraped at the mud caking her overalls and gave a deep, heartfelt sigh. "But they's all dirtied up an' torn, now."   
  
"What about that man?" Peter gestured to the robed figure cradling Magneto's son. "Is he your, uh... father? An uncle, perhaps?"   
  
Daisy gave a short laugh and kicked her feet to make the hammock swing back and forth. Good thing his webbing was strong, an outlying part of his brain mused idly. "No, silly. That's Alvin. He's a zeh.... a zeh-lot. He comes from the Goddess' Lands. There's lotsa peoples like him there - peoples with no powers."   
  
"The place we're going?" Peter looked on the rumpled, middle-aged human with new eyes. "More humans survived? Well I'll be..."   
  
He transferred his gaze to the last of the close-knit group Daisy seemed a part of. It was strange, how that motley party stood out against the horde of Mutie Towners like a sore thumb. It wasn't anything like their unity, but a sort of camaraderie surrounded them - even Magneto's boy. Like they'd seen and done too much, but been through it together, and so took solace in their shared pain.   
  
Daisy followed his gaze. "That's Kitty an' Baby Hope. She don't see so good, but Kurti helps her." She leaned forward conspiritally. "I think he *likes* her."   
  
"Does she like him back?" Might as well find out all he could about these people. Who knew, maybe the information would be useful - and besides, it helped to pass the time in the stuffy, cramped space. He had a suspicion Magneto wouldn't be staying after he made good on his promise to the furry kid and got them all to the Goddess' Lands - wherever *they* were - safely, but he may as well so something constructive in the meantime, right?   
  
Daisy looked suddenly sad. She stopped her kicking. "I don't know. Don't think so. She used to like Mister Lance, but he's dead now. Pie-Pie's sister kill't him at the big river."   
  
The calmness with which she stated the demise startled Peter almost as much as learning that Wanda had taken a life before having her own snuffed out at the Mississippi Bridge. Could it be that there was actual credence to these people's story of her suiciding?   
  
A glance at Magneto told him to shut up about any theory he might have. At least until they were on solid ground again, at any rate.   
  
"Who's that boy?" Peter indicated the last of Daisy's party. "The one with the scales. Is he your brother, or something?"   
  
"No, that's Ariel. He used to be a slave, he says. Got sold at an a... aw... awk-shun. But his owner died, an' Pie-Pie's sister made 'im make the big water wall onna bridge, an' then she died an' he joined us, an'... an'..." She caught Peter's strange look through the mask-hole over his left eye. "What?"   
  
"You saw what happened on the bridge?"   
  
"... Yeah..." Instantly, Daisy's tone turned suspicious, and she eyed Peter with something akin to unease at the sudden urgency in his tone. "Why?"   
  
"Nothing, nothing. Just a theory I had." He waved her concern away - and then promptly fell out of his seat when the bus gave a sideways lurch.   
  
Half the contents fell from their seats, squealing, and Daisy tumbled from the hammock to the floor faster than Peter could catch her and himself both. She rolled a little, coming to rest near Dazzler and getting tangled up in Ariel's limbs. Immediately, she angrily shook him off, leaving him looking hurt and dejected from yet another rejection at her hands.   
  
"Get offa me, Ariel. No touchin', remember?"   
  
"Yeah, I remember," he said in a doleful voice that reminded Peter of himself before he was bitten by a certain genetically altered spider on a school field trip - especially when in front of girls in the hall, and especially being made to look a fool of yet *again*.   
  
_Poor kid,_ he had time to think, before the bus lurched again, descended a few feet, and then skidded to a halt on a long, deserted stretch of open wilderness.   
  
While others were still picking themselves up, Peter swung into his hammock and vaulted to peer out of the window, straining to spot Magneto.   
  
Seconds later, a fuzzy blue something was at his side competing for viewing space.   
  
"What's going on? Why've we stopped?"   
  
"There is a storm brewing," said Magneto, turning the corner of the vehicle's rear with arms folded and cape billowing in the sharp breeze. He cut quite the imposing figure. "There was too much electrical interference for me to keep the bus in the air any longer. At least, not safely," he added at Kurt's dark look, though his tone held a hint more challenge than apology.   
  
"When can we set off again? Time is of the essence," the elf snapped in a very un-elf-like manner.   
  
Magneto looked at the sky and shook his head. He seemed tired - ten times older than before, and Peter didn't fail to notice how his blue eyes snapped back and forth between them and the huddled bundle between Logan and Alvin. "Not for a good few hours - if even then. Your urgency is commendable, I'm sure - though I don't entirely understand why you wish to see this 'Goddess' at all. Still, I won't risk crashing this thing simply to shave a little time off your schedule. A few hours shouldn't be too much to ask for, should it? At a stretch, we can be off before dawn breaks."   
  
He spoke as if the sky hadn't turned darker than night, and Kurt shivered before looking up and bobbing his head. "Fine, then. Just no funny business. I don't want to find out later that this is some elaborate ploy of yours to delay us for your own purposes..."   
  
Peter hadn't even thought of that. He chanced a look at his leader, trying to gage his reaction.   
  
Magneto's eyes flashed and green energy coalesced around them like a writhing snake. "Believe me, boy. If I truly wanted you dead, you would be eating dandelions by their roots right now [3]."   
  
With that, he turned and swept away, going to perch on the roof where the wind would whip at both his cape and his soul a little as it picked up. Which wouldn't be long, judging by the roiling turn the heavens had taken. Clouds battered against each other, jostling for space along the gloomy airways.   
  
Kurt sighed. Instinctively, Peter moved to pat the mutant on his shoulder.   
  
Kurt flinched away, eyes filled with mistrust. Then, seeing the other boy meant no harm, they softened to a pale gold and became filled with leadership-anxiety once more.   
  
"Don't sweat him. He's always been offhand, even with us, and he thawed us out - which we're hoping means he likes us."   
  
Kurt's lips quirked a little, like they were trying to remember how to smile. "I know the feeling. One of my own is rather... abrupt when he wants to be."   
  
"Let me guess - which is most of the time?"   
  
"Ja." The curvature increased, and when a rumble of thunder sounded overhead, Kurt beckoned that Peter return inside with him. "No point in us getting struck by lightning if we don't need to, ne?"   
  
"You're German?" Peter sounded surprised. He'd been unable to place lilting accent before, but the light smattering of conversation stirred old high school classes, flitting down halls and past classrooms that leaked foreign vocab in an effort to avoid a tardy slip.  
  
"Born and bred. Not that I've seen my homeland in many long years. Your accent, on the other hand, sounds very familiar. I'd hazard a guess at... New York?"   
  
"Yup. You lived there?"   
  
"Survived is more like it. Actually, Robyn and I were rather near the city, but never actually within its boundaries. Although Logan may have travelled there since the virus..."   
  
Peter blinked, confused. "Just you and, uh, Robyn was it? But what about the others? The little girl, Daisy - she was telling me about how all you guys are related..."   
  
Kurt blinked slowly. Then he shook his head with a watery - if genuine - smile. "Ach, that's how she sees us, now. It's rather a convoluted story, actually."   
  
"Hey, I ain't going nowhere," Peter shrugged. He hopped onto the back of a seat, much like Kurt himself was wont to do. "If you don't mind telling it, that is. Totally understand if you just tell me to bug off back to my own place. You don't really have much reason to like me, after all; what with me trying to, uh, beat you up and all..."   
  
Kurt sighed and looked at Alvin. "To err is human, to forgive divine. You seem willing to forget that I actually beat you to the, uh, beating, so I should too."   
  
Peter stiffened, and then relaxed when Kurt sat beside him, just across from Kitty and the strange, staring girl christened simply 'Rogue'. Her quick dark eyes unnerved him, and he shifted uncomfortably while she stared cold, incisive daggers into his back.   
  
"Uh, yeah. Right. Gotcha."   
  
Kurt settled down, and as the thunder rolled across the sky outside, he carefully outline to Peter all that had happened to him and his 'family' since that fateful day in Bayville when he heard someone crying for a lost friend in the dust.   
  
Peter listened intently. And he learned.  
  
*******************  
  
Ariel looked solidly up. He'd been keeping his eyes skywards for quite some time.  
  
"What's *your* problem?" demanded a voice to his left.   
  
"The sky..." he murmured, distraction making him vague. "It's full of water."   
  
He could feel it, calling him. His natural affinity attuned him to the extra moisture in the atmosphere, the tenuous half-promise of precipitation, so indistinct it was almost a dream. He was suddenly filled with such yearning and need he marvelled at how he could've missed it before.   
  
So thirsty... and he'd been wetting his gills from the exhalations of the crowd with him. It wasn't enough.   
  
And there was water - above him.   
  
The need pulsed through him like the heartbeat of a giant.   
  
*THROB*.   
  
So close and so far...   
  
*THROB*   
  
So thirsty. So *dry*.   
  
*THROB*   
  
_Come to me..._   
  
Ignoring the protests of those around him he pushed his way to the front of the walkway and climbed off the bus. He spread his arms, turned his palms skyward and *felt* the water out with every fibre of his being. He stretched himself, his body and his consciousness.   
  
So far. So very far away, but closer all the time. He could almost touch it with his mind...  
  
And then he fell. Darkness claimed him; swept him up into nothingness like a soft blanket of shadows and murk.   
  
*******************  
  
When he woke, he was on the ground outside and water was falling from the sky.   
  
The others trailing behind him remembered this, vaguely, from the time before the plague. It was called 'rain'.   
  
It was beautiful. There wasn't enough of it in this new, scarred world.   
  
Ariel stripped off his coat, called the water to his neck and gasped, laughing.   
  
"Whatizzit?" Daisy was demanding from somewhere inside the bus. "Whatizzit, Logan? Izzit dangerous?"   
  
"Kurti! Kurti!" Robyn wailed. "I'm *scared*."   
  
"It's all right, liebe. It's only rain."   
  
And in a moment of supreme delight Pietro thrust his hands out the window to catch the falling drops. He was actually *laughing*. "Rain! *Rain*!"[4]   
  
*******************  
  
And in the lands of the Goddess, the people were amazed. They clustered by their windows to look at this strangest of phenomena.  
  
Pure, unspoilt rain fell while the Goddess rested.   
  
That had never happened before.   
  
*******************  
  
"You've never seen rain before?" Ariel was half amazed, half aghast as both Robyn and Daisy shrank away from the cool, refreshing downpour.   
  
Daisy wrinkled her lip, while Robyn just buried further into Kurt's embrace. The elf hugged her tight and invited the other little girl into his arms, which she fled to with great haste.   
  
Peter landed beside them and echoed Ariel's question, simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief as the rain bathed his cuts and bruises. Since the spider bite his healing properties had been vastly improved, but he was still human, and thus was still feeling the after-effects of their most recent tussle.   
  
Kurt wrapped his tail around Robyn's wrist, as was his habit when she was scared. She clung to it like other children might a comfort blanket, but carefully kept her claws retracted to spare the delicate skin thereon.   
  
"Ground Zero, remember?" Kurt nodded at both Peter and Ariel in turn. "We were hit the worst of all places with the virus, and then again with the antidote agents. As well as killing all the green, the chemicals so saturated the area that we never had any rainfall for four years. Thank God the water was piped in from elsewhere. I'm told it was the same in several places throughout the country - perhaps even the world. Wherever they pumped too much antidote basically became a new desert."   
  
Peter blinked; reflecting on how close New York was to this 'Bayville' place. Was that what had happened to MJ? To Aunt May? Heck, was that how Jameson had gone out? Not in a blaze of glory, but with a whimper to a sickness created in a lab, or parched dry by clouds that would not come?   
  
Suddenly, there was wetness on his cheeks that had nothing to do with the rain, and Peter turned his face toward the opened sky. "What did we do to the world?"   
  
"A question we've asked many time, mein Freund." Kurt gave Robyn and Daisy a brief squeeze, and then guided them out into the falling water where Mutie Towners, outsiders and Acolytes alike were frolicking together, heedless of any and all boundaries they'd created between themselves.   
  
"Here's another. Why?"   
  
Kurt shrugged, peeling Robyn off one arm and tipping her chin heavenwards to let droplets plip and run through her fur. She blinked against it, fought him for a moment, and then stopped to let a slow smile spread across her face. It obviously wasn't half so bad as she'd thought.   
  
Daisy peeped out, feathers quivering as they were pummelled, and blinked lizardine eyes at her giggling sister.   
  
"I... I think I remember this stuff... Long time ago, though..." she murmured quietly.  
  
Kurt smiled and pushed at them to go further out and join the others. Then he sighed and looked askance at Peter. "Fear. Blind hatred. Following the crowd. Who knows what really went on in the minds of those who spread the virus? I live from day to day wondering the same thing, but I've long since relegated myself to the fact that I'll never know. And in truth, I don't think I'd want to, either."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"Because 'evil' and 'the enemy' are so much easier to think of and accept when they're faceless. You give them fears, hopes, dreams - everything that makes us *us*, then you're letting yourself in for a whole new ball game of guilt."   
  
"Considering we're about the same age, you sure sound a helluva lot more mature than me... Kurt, was it?"   
  
Kurt nodded, but he didn't smile. "I didn't ask to be. I grew up quickly out of necessity - something I wouldn't wish on anybody else. Truth be told, you were probably better off up there in space. Asleep."   
  
Peter nodded, swallowing his tears. "I think you're right. But then, if I had then we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"   
  
Kurt blinked. "No, we wouldn't. And conversation is something I don't think I'll ever be able to give up." He looked out at the girls, and then abruptly thrust out a three-fingered hand. "Care to dance? It's been a long time since I last went puddle splashing."   
  
"Uh..."   
  
"Come on, you look like you could use some good old fashioned childishness." He waggled his eyebrows.   
  
Peter pursed his lips, then took the proffered hand and raced out into the rain, whooping like he used to when he was just a little kid splashing Uncle Ben with his new galoshes.   
  
Water flew, laughter accompanying it, as the contents of the bus engaged in a few simple pleasures courtesy of a rainy day.  
  
*******************  
  
Ariel laughed, loud and long. His powers called out, and he allowed them free rein, sculpting the rain around him into twirling streamers of water that danced and sang and swept through the air like ribbons. He kicked off his shoes, letting water caress his webbed feet and slide deliciously over his scales. Then he threw back his head, hair sopping, and opened his mouth to catch a few drops on his tongue, as children have always done during cloudbursts.  
  
He continued this way for what seemed like an age, while the delighted noises of people around him caressed his ears and made his smile yet broader. They were *enjoying* the rain, and he stretched out a hand to arc yet more water over their heads in a refreshing deluge. Some squealed, but nobody told him to stop, and he raced among them, spraying all with small jets until he collapsed in a heap of happy giggles next to one of the bus' front headlamps, tired but blissful.  
  
He fell to watching the others, in particular those he'd been travelling with the longest.   
  
Ariel hadn't been quite sure what to make of these strange people when they first rescued him from Wanda. After all, he hadn't originally been part of their plans, and he wasn't sure they would've asked him to join them had he been happened upon selling his wares instead of trying to kill them. They'd been nice enough, but somehow he'd got the impression that there was a bond between them he couldn't hope to match. Something intangible that held them together, like invisible glue. He hadn't known his place, slinking between those special bonds, and had wondered after his own usefulness. After all, the way he'd been brought up, if you weren't useful, you were cast out. Got rid of. In some cases, even terminated.  
  
Yet now, with rain cascading onto the dry earth and all of them smiling into what he'd done, he sighed with contentment. This was his calling. This was his power. This was his place. The plight of the Goddess had been explained to him in detail when they were locked up in Mutie Town, and he'd wanted to help her in hopes of finding his niche there.   
  
It was difficult for him, a slave, to get used to the idea he didn't have to work for his living. He *wanted* to be valuable, which translated to roughly only one thing. And now he knew how he could be that one thing.  
  
Rain.  
  
He would make it rain in the Lands of New Hope.  
  
He would make it rain, help plants like those abandoned by Alvin grow, and make the world green and lush again.   
  
Someone plopped down next to the other headlamp, breathing heavily and with the last of a giggle on her lips. Ariel looked over, and then shifted away, his smile fading.  
  
Daisy stared out at the others just as he had done, drinking in their faces and basking in their happiness. It was an easy thing to do, as well as an absorbing one, and Ariel took advantage of her preoccupation to slide noiselessly away.  
  
When first approached by Daisy at the bridge, he'd thought she was extending the hand of friendship - which, to an extent, she was. She was the closest to him in age, and rather more tomboyish than she liked to admit. Anyone would think they made a good pair of friends, and Ariel had thought exactly the same thing.  
  
Yet, quite suddenly Daisy had turned from him. They played when Robyn was around, indulging the youngest member of their tiny group; but ever since Mutie Town, when she once fell asleep pressed against his shoulder and slipped to his lap while they both slumbered, she'd been rather... odd. She refused to even let him grab her arm in a game of tag, and was downright rude if he ever tried anything so much as to hold her hand or shoulder.  
  
So now it was that he actively tried to slip away, and cursed under his breath as her head snapped around and her pale eye landed on him.  
  
"Ariel?"  
  
"Hey, Daisy."  
  
She sniffed, looking to the sky. "You do this?" It was a demand as much as a question, and he sighed, sitting back down in his place. "You make the water?"  
  
"No, it was already in the clouds. I just called it down."  
  
"There was water in the *clouds*? But clouds is jus' bits of... of... cloud," she finished lamely. "Cotton wool. Can't store water in cotton wool."  
  
Ariel shook his head and extended a hand, allowing a small ball of water to float inches above his palm. "Clouds are water vapour, so high up you can't even *tell* they're water anymore." He sent the ball up into the air, and it hovered above the top of the bus, an insignificant speck against the backdrop of the storm. "Can you tell that's water just by looking at it?"  
  
Daisy squinted. "Not really. So... all clouds is water?"  
  
"Mostly. Except dust clouds, of course."  
  
She wrinkled her nose. "Wise guy."  
  
Ariel sighed, and turned his face heavenwards. The rain was cool against his scales, and he shut his eyes, letting it roll across the lids like miniature waterfalls. "Daisy," he said suddenly, "why don't you like me anymore? I thought we were supposed to be friends?"  
  
"We are friends."  
  
"Then how come you don't play properly anymore? You're the one who taught me how to play, but you don't follow your own rules. You won't let me touch you in tag, and I can't very well just keep tagging Robyn all the time. It's not fair on her with her little legs."  
  
"When she runs on all fours she's just as fast as us. Maybe even faster."  
  
"That's not the point."  
  
Daisy didn't answer for a second, and Ariel chanced a peek at her.   
  
She was sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, water having smeared all the dirt and grime on her overalls in greyish brown smudges. Her lizardine face looked thoughtful, and her gaze was unfocussed, staring at pebbles.   
  
"Daisy?"  
  
"You really wanna know?"  
  
"'Course I do. Would I have asked if I didn't?"  
  
She sniffed. "You ever heard of sex?"  
  
That threw him, and for a second he goggled. He'd come across the adult practice before, yes. You couldn't live for so long next to Trader Dan's harem without seeing a few things children shouldn't really know. "Uh, yeah? But what's that got to do with anything?"  
  
"My Pa used to do it." She paused, and then took a deep breath. "To me. Him an' his friends used to... do stuff. Logan tole' me not to think 'bout it no more, but you asked, so... Back in Mutie Town, I had a nightmare. Dreamt I was back home, with Pa an' his friends. Woke up with my face in yer lap. Got me all flibberty, an' then you kept tryin' to hold my hand... Dunno what made me think it. But I kept thinkin' you was after the same thing."  
  
Ariel flinched. "But I'm only twelve."  
  
"My brother was fourteen, an' *he* did it. An' I knew him since I was born. You... I still don't know so good. What's to say you ain't jus' after what they was allus after?"  
  
Ariel frowned. He pulled himself upright. "You saw what happened on the bus, didn't you? When that Wolfsbane tried to unzip my shirt?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"Did I look like that was what I was after? Did I look like I was enjoying myself?"  
  
"No..." Daisy admitted.  
  
"And she was *more* than willing. Daisy, I don't want anything to *do* with that stuff. Not yet. I just... I just wanna learn how to be a normal kid again. Not a slave."  
  
She cut her eyes at him. "Truth?"  
  
He laid a hand on his heart and raised the other, droplets glinting off the webbing stretched between his fingers. "Absolute truth. As far back as I can remember, I lived all my life doing what I was told by Trader Dan, thinking that one day I'd be sold, and then I'd go on to do what I was told by my new owner. I never got a proper chance to just be a *kid*. And that's all I want, now. I wanna be useful, yeah, but more than that, I wanna be the me I would've been if this whole stinking virus mess hadn't happened."  
  
Daisy regarded him for a moment, and then her scaly little lips curved upward in a small smile. "Y'know, that's the mostest I ever heard you say all at once." She heaved herself to her feet and thrust out a hand. "You wanna go play splashin' inna puddles?"  
  
Ariel didn't even hesitate. "*Hell* yeah!"  
  
*******************  
  
Erik sat on the other side of the bus' roof, Indian-style, trying to block out the sounds of happy laughter. So far as he was concerned, there was no call for laughter. So the sky had opened? So it had rained? So what? None of it helped against the ache threatening to consume his entire chest. He felt like he was in the throes of a permanent heart attack.  
  
He would admit it to nobody, but his grief was still very great. His anger had diminished it before, but now that anger was gone, the sorrow had returned in full force.   
  
And so he let his armour crack for a second.   
  
He mourned.   
  
He mourned for the child he'd sent to her madness and then her death through his own tampering. He mourned for the childhood he'd stolen from her. He mourned for the son he'd turned against him, and the bond he'd severed between his children in an attempt to achieve his own gains.   
  
He'd thought he was making them better - improving their powers. He'd thought he was giving them a fighting a chance in a world that would no doubt despise them for what they were when Mutantkind was finally noticed and acknowledged. Charles had tried to convince him otherwise, and thus their own personal feud had sprung up; a clash of ideologies that set two friends at odds with each other because of what was at stake behind their words.   
  
Erik didn't know what might have happened had Mutantkind not been introduced so suddenly and so forcefully into the world's psyche.   
  
Maybe Charles' notions would have proved truthful - harmony between man and mutant. Living together without the need of violence, hatred or fear. A nice idea, but Erik had come from the camps in Poland with the thoroughly learned lesson that what people did not understand, they feared. And fear invariably spawned hatred, and both of those sparked violence. A vicious cycle that was started off the moment a foetus formed in the womb.   
  
Thus he had steered clear of pretty designs, instead choosing to believe a war was coming. He had prepped both himself and his children for it as best he knew how.  
  
Who could've known how all this would turn out in the end? Who could've known the war he dreaded would come so abruptly, or take such a turn? Who could've known that trying to improve his daughter's powers would affect her so harshly?  
  
Erik didn't deal with whatifs. So, instead, he simply tried not to lose himself too much in his grief.  
  
{SCRITCH}  
  
What was that?  
  
{SCRATCH}  
  
His head jerked up just in time to see a figure sink down on the floor far below where he sat. It drooped, as though the rain were battering rather than refreshing it, and Erik suppressed the urge to sneer and turn away when it rested its head back against the bus' hide and revealed its face.  
  
Rogue opened her eyes, though he hadn't made a sound, and regarded him solidly.   
  
There was something about her gaze; something... indefinable that caught Erik's attention, and he paused to stare down at her, meeting her strange dark eyes with his own. She had a haunted look about her, and her stare seemed to bore right through him. It was unnerving, and much to his chagrin he found himself turning away first.  
  
"You're so sad..." came the husky whisper.   
  
Erik grunted. "I think I have a right to be."  
  
"... Yeah..." She blinked, and droplets fell from her eyelashes. "You're not impressed by the rain." Again, not a question but a statement. Then, "Why're you doin' this? Really? Why didn't ya'll just go back where ya'll came from, instead of helpin' us out like this? I *know* it weren't really 'cause Kurt asked you to."  
  
Erik glanced at her, but didn't question how she knew. "I'm making up for lost time."  
  
The double meaning wasn't lost on her. She nodded. Then she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, steadying herself with cool, misty air. Her face wore a tense expression, and Erik watched her despite his brain telling him it was discourteous to do so.   
  
This was the girl that had replaced Wanda in Pietro's mind, and that fact alone sparked a tendril of dislike in his own mind.  
  
"Shouldn't you be with your new brother?" he asked, not caring how he sounded.  
  
Rogue inhaled and exhaled deeply before answering. "Nah. S'easier not bein' so close to everyone."  
  
At once, Erik felt a spike of guilt against his own dislike. "Ah, yes. I, uh, heard about your augmentation." He looked to the middle distance, where rain obscured the view. Water dripped off his nose and collected in his wrinkles, reminding him once again that, despite all his power, all his dreams, all the technology at hand keeping him young, his spirit was still very much that of an old man. "Our jailer was rather loose-lipped."  
  
"A Jamie?"  
  
"Why yes. But how did you - "  
  
"Kid never did know how to keep his mouth shut."  
  
"You've met him, then?"  
  
"Met one of him. Nice enough, but a bit too full on in the 'I-hate-humans' arena. Thought a lot of you, though. That's how we got to Mutie Town in the first place, followin' him as he spouted prophecies 'bout Pietro bein' the son of their messiah."  
  
Erik sighed, dropping his gaze. "I didn't exactly live up to their expectations on that front, did I?"  
  
Rogue looked like she might've shrugged, had she thought it worth the effort. "You ain't no god," she said simply. "You're just a man. A man who's seen an' done too much, at that. They're the ones who raised you on that pedestal. Ya'll never climbed there." She paused to take another deep breath. "Plus, you're in mournin'. Ain't nobody on this whole damn planet's at their best when they got grief on their shoulders."  
  
Erik shuffled in place, but somehow couldn't bring himself to pay her a compliment. "I never realised such settlements still existed down here on Earth."  
  
"Live an' learn." She winced when a high-pitched, joyful squeal sounded from somewhere, and massaged her temples.  
  
Erik watched her, frowning. "Do you see yourself as Pietro's sister?" he asked bluntly.  
  
Rogue didn't seem at all surprised by the question. "Honestly? I don't know anymore. I... Wanda *is* in here." She tapped the side of her head. "It's like... I feel like an echo of her. A memory, almost. I know things about her - things only she knew - an' when they pop into my head, it feels like I *am* her. An' then I think I'm Pietro's sister for real. But then, some part of me knows I'm not. Not really. An' I have to remind myself that I'm me, Rogue, not Wanda. It's... it's confusin', is what it is. 'Specially with everybody else's thoughts crashin' about in here, too. Don't nobody know how to think quietly no more?"  
  
Erik surveyed her for a moment, calculating. Then he removed his helmet and expended a small amount of his own power to send it down to her. "Put it on," he said simply. "Charles Xavier, the world's greatest telepath, couldn't get through that thing. You're no telepath, but it should still grant you a degree of privacy in your own head."  
  
Rogue looked astonished and gingerly took the helmet, running light fingertips over the metal like she was afraid to touch it properly. "But it's yours..."  
  
"I can make another." Erik waved a careless hand and propped his chin on his fist.   
  
Hesitantly, like he was going to whip it away again at any second, Rogue lifted the gift and slipped it over her head. A gasp escaped her lips and her eyes widened briefly. "It's so... quiet all of a sudden."  
  
"It won't do anything about stealing people's powers if you're too close, nor their thoughts if you actually touch them," Erik warned.   
  
"But it's made things so... quiet," Rogue breathed appreciatively, and turned her face up to him. She looked rather ridiculous with only a sliver of pale peeking through the front, and the rest of the helmet swamped her, but the look of intense gratefulness moderated it considerably.  
  
Erik met her eyes for a full few seconds, and then broke the contact; the first to turn away yet again.  
  
Rogue stared at him a moment longer before doing likewise, and they stretched out their stares to encompass the hazy, far-distant horizon.   
  
"Ro-Ro," Erik whispered after a while, voice barely audible over the thrum of raindrops on dry, hard-packed earth. "It has a nice ring to it."  
  
*******************   
  
{DRIP}  
  
{PING}  
  
He snorted in his slumber, too tired to sleep deeply; still in that haze of half-asleep and half-awake, but not nearly lucid.   
  
He couldn't be awake if he was hearing such a gentle rain. Rain no longer existed without killing. He had been there when the bayou started to dry - he saw it with his own eyes, before the Gulf rebelled on the City, plunging it underwater in one freak storm during the Hurricane season.   
  
{*BOOM*}  
  
Remy sat bolt upright when lightning slashed across the sky, staring incredulously at the rain that sluiced from the heavens like all the Angels were crying simultaneously. It fell in sheets, causing the streets of the ghost town to turn to mud - mud! - while beautiful, savage thunder raged overhead, the trees dancing in the wind.   
  
Rain.  
  
*Rain*!  
  
Running out into the street, forgetting he was wearing his only set of clothes, forgetting he was in Colorado near the mountains and that it was not a pleasant temperature to get soaking wet in, he gave an exuberant shout and lifted his hands to the sky.   
  
The rain answered, filling his mouth, his nose, his eyes and his cupped palms with life-giving water. Pure water - not acidic or poisonous like so much other liquid.   
  
"Notre Pere qui etes aux cieux...Merci![5]" he murmured, laughing in the middle of the muddy street like a raving lunatic.   
  
For the first time in four years, Remy LeBeau was happy to be alive.   
  
*******************  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*******************  
  
[1] Movie. Wrestling match. 'Nuff said.  
  
[2] _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ side-fling.  
  
[3] As in, six feet under. Thank you for that wonderful phrase, Greg.  
  
[4] Paraphrased from the Alex Corda version of _Thief of Bagdad_. The original line was "Wind! WIND! BWA-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA..."  
  
[5] Our Father, who art in Heaven... thanks! 


	38. Breathe

A/N ~ If I weren't so exhausted, I'd be embarrassed at how late this chapter is. Especially in the face of my promise to have this fic finished by the end of March. However, my brain has spontaneously imploded thanks to the amount of academia I've been combating lately, so you'll have to speak with the puddle of grey-matter goo for an apology.  
  
Oh, and to those people I promised pictures, I apologise for not sending them. I've been grappling with my new website and was hoping to send the link your way so you could check out everything at once, but HTML is fighting me more than I expected, so I'll send them the old-fashioned way in the interim.   
  
Hootild ~ Canadian? I'm no expert on the accent, being several thousand miles away, but it strikes me as a nicer brogue than Brummy.   
  
Ambrosia ~ Are you going to tell the indestructible midget he can't call his claws Mr. Pointy? You're a braver person than I am if you do. Lady Deathstrike! And not the movie version, either. They ruined her. I refer to her as Yuriko, because she's not really Lady Deathstrike. She's just some Mary-Sue they gave her name to. Wanda did pop up in the old cartoon when she and Quicksilver found out Magneto was their pappy. That was the episode with the cow-lady you mentioned, I think.   
  
Rurouni Tyriel ~ The idea of Rogue wearing Magneto's helmet was just too good to pass up.   
  
Nemati ~ Jayce and Ulysses! I have a potential Jayce fic in the works, but it all depends on my university schedule. I have to read Little Dorrit, Hard Times, Pickwick Papers *and* Great Expectations before July. Fun, fun, fun..  
  
The Phantom ~ Interesting connective reasoning. Pietro loves you? *Brings out wedding bells* Pyro hasn't been mentioned, so what happened to him is up to your imagination. Shelob. She didn't impress me as much as thought she would. Animation - v.g, but as for Shelob herself as a movie entity... well Harryhausen did it better.   
  
Nessie6 ~ I keep meaning to check out Seven Sunnngdale's stuff, but every time I do something calls me away or I get side-tracked. See above for Pyro info.   
  
Gerri ~ I'd hoped the idea of ran as cleansing would be subliminal, but it's good to see that you picked it up And thank you for the comment on Ariel. The little guy had been ignored for so long, he deserved some attention.   
  
Ice Princess ~ Thank you for the kind words. I'm sure the fic isn't as good as all that, but the compliments were appreciated anyway. ^_^  
  
Tenshiamanda ~ Five days in the rain? Forget your umbrella, perchance?   
  
DemonRogue13 ~ Thank you. I'm glad you liked it   
  
Yuki ~ Snow?! Where the heck are you? Actually *peers out of window* I'll take your snow and raise you a thunderstorm. With lightning and all the trimmings. Drip, drip, drop little April shower? My arse!  
  
Ezrajade ~ You're welcome. Sorry this one isn't quite so long.   
  
Archer ~ See the top for my comments on the non-appearance of those pictures. Thunder Cats! Cheetara kicked ass, and Panthro wasn't too bad, either. Liono had boofy hair, though. Mullet alert!  
  
A Random Saint ~ Thank you for making *my* day with that review. ^_^ Happy Scribbler.   
  
Cheesy Monkey ~ You have an Ariel plushie? I want one!   
  
Yma ~ Not long to go? You could say that...  
  
******************  
  
Thirty-eigth Fragment ~ Breathe  
  
******************  
  
The Goddess opened her eyes. She sniffed, and then she frowned. "It came?"   
  
"Yes, Goddess," said Maive. "The rain came in the night."   
  
"But I didn't bring it... Why did it rain?"   
  
"Seer had a vision," Maive began, smiling fit to burst. "He saw a two-tiered monolith with people inside, and a boy calling the water in the clouds. He said one thing else, Goddess. He said, 'they are coming'."   
  
Ororo frowned, not able to remember her hazy mutterings of the previous night. She recalled Seer visiting her, but not what he said, other than it had made her rest somehow easier.   
  
She tried to prop herself up in bed, but found her arms shaking too much, and so had to be helped. "Is that good news or bad news?" she asked those gathered around her, not really expecting an answer.   
  
And then there was a commotion outside, and a sound reached Ororo's ears. A sound she'd heard only once before, when the maker came to visit Charles at the mansion, long before the virus. Nevertheless, it was something she could never forget, just as she could not forget the face and the name that went with it.   
  
"No," she whispered, fearful of what this portended. "He's dead... It can't be him. Not here..."  
  
But it was. The all-too-familiar sound of Magneto's power being used.   
  
"GODDESS! GODDESS!" Another attendant bustled into the room, eyes and hair wild. "There's a... it's a... a flying *bus*!"   
  
Attendants crowded, shuffled her painfully into her wheelchair and brought it out into the rain-filtered early morning sunlight to see. Ororo winced, flopping about uselessly, but made no move to stop them. If Magneto had indeed survived, then his presence here could mean nothing good. She remembered his thunderous face when he shouted at Charles in the mansion drawing room, and recalled how he'd nearly put a fist right through the desk as they argued. Magneto would not come here to her lands without good reason, and his good reasons were no doubt vastly different to her own.  
  
She looked up, squinting, and was amazed at the sight of a double-decker bus descending as if from the heavens, despite the heavy thrum of power surrounding it to tell her otherwise.   
  
The wheel-less thing settled outside in the street, and she suddenly she realised that... yes, there were *people* on board it. Faces - lots and lots of faces, all peering out like rabbit kittens on their first journey from the burrow.  
  
And then she recognised the blue figure perched on its roof.   
  
But it couldn't be. He was dead. He'd died long ago in Bayville, when the last of the X-Men were attacked. She'd felt it deep in her gut that he was gone. She'd mourned for him, just as she'd mourned for the others that perished that day.  
  
But it *was* him; right down to the tufted blue fur and wide, fangy grin.  
  
"Kurt?"   
  
"Don't shoot! We're friends!" The thing that looked so much like her old student leaped off the roof and bounded up to her on all fours. "It's all right, Ororo. Please. We have some people who can help."   
  
Fearing a hallucination, Ororo reached for his hand, making sure he was real. His too-thick fingers were warm beneath her touch. He curled them up to gently squeeze her own.  
  
And the first of her happy tears tracked down her cheek.  
  
Another ghost from the past loomed into her field of vision. Bristly and unkempt, there was no mistaking him, and Ororo felt her breath hitch in her gullet. "Logan?"   
  
"It's me, 'Ro," he said, smiling that gruff smile of his and ascending the steps to her like a knight returning to his queen. "Whatever the physicians been tellin' ya, I'm gonna see ya *do* it, right?"   
  
She couldn't believe it, and in her joyous confusion she said the mantra she'd been speaking for so long, like it was an incantation to break this spell and reveal the truth. "My... microclimate."   
  
Logan nodded, like he already knew. "Little Water Wizard's got that down. You want it to rain? He'll call the water. 'Ro... I've seen him move enough water to divert a *river*. He can take over rainin' for ya."   
  
And then Kurt again, looking down at the fingers latticed through his. "Leiber Gott... do you even remember *how* to eat?"   
  
Ororo had to laugh through her tears. It *was* them, just as she remembered, if a little older. "Typical Kurt..." she choked, so happy she could barely breathe. "Always food first..."   
  
"The only thing that's changed is food for whom. Lieber Gott," he said again, inspecting her knuckles.   
  
But... but Magneto was there, too. That wasn't right...  
  
"I come in peace," he said, not at all like she remembered him. Where was the roaring voice, the livid face and the clenched fists? The Master of Metal looked careworn and fatigued beyond anything she'd ever known, but there was something in his eyes that reminded her of Charles' kind gaze. He looked almost... Bright Lady help her, but he looked almost gentle. "And *you* need help." Then he left.   
  
_How odd..._  
  
"War's well over," said Logan, as if in explanation. "And pointless to boot. Who needs to kill these days?"   
  
There was a scaly little girl peeking around Logan's knee. "She lookin' awful sickly for a Goddess," she said, peering up at Ororo through pale eyes. Next to her, a little boy with soft golden scales added his assent.  
  
Again, the screeching noise of Magneto's power rang out, though now Ororo couldn't see what was going on.   
  
"What's he *doing*?"   
  
"Maybe he's summoning Asteroid M," said one of the clustering crowd. He had a very gaudy red-blue-and-black costume on, and crouched not unlike Kurt did. "We have a healer."   
  
Logan left the steps, reached over, and picked the young man up by his shirtfront. "And ya didn't *tell* us?"   
  
"You didn't ask..." the kid gulped and shrugged. "She's an augmented mutant. About sevenish, maybe as old as nine - I can't tell. Healing takes a lot out of her, though."   
  
Logan winced. He sighed and put him down. "A'right. Fine."   
  
Ororo sighed blissfully, wondering if her time had finally come and she'd gone to her own personal Heaven.   
  
Lots of people, mostly mutants, were clustering around her, touching her carefully. She didn't recognise even half of them, but that didn't make her joy any less. More had survived, more had lived than she'd ever imagined...  
  
And, at long last, a returning missionary. One of the first to follow her when she fell to Earth.  
  
"*Alvin*," Ororo smiled. She opened her arms for him.   
  
"Goddess," he whispered, and knelt by her side. "I... I lost your plants."   
  
"But you bought me so much in return," she said, tilting his chin back up. "Care to introduce us?"   
  
"Goddess." Alvin looked up at her with shining eyes. "I found them. The students - from the school you spoke of. I journeyed far and saw many things - not least of all in the place you called Bayville."   
  
"It still stands?" A brief flash of hope in her eyes, and she turned to the assembled crowd of mutants. "Are all of you from Bayville?"   
  
"Uh, no ma'am." The gaudy one shook his head, peering out at her through one torn eyehole. "Some of us are from a place Magneto built, called Asteroid M. It's a... a haven for folk like us. People who're different and in need of sanctuary."  
  
A girl stepped up to his side. Curious daubs of light sparkled around her as words formed in the air, shimmering and bright.  
  
We were sick, some with the virus, frozen in stasis chambers, but he brought us back to life... kinda.   
  
Then the girl smiled, and it was as if the whole village lit up.   
  
"The rest of us are from Mutie Town," said a scruffy youth with matted black hair and skin wreathed in what appeared to be green slime.   
  
"I have heard of the place. Des Moines previously, as I recall." Ororo smiled at them as they clustered together, a little awed to be confronted with a Goddess of flesh and blood.   
  
Kurt loosed her hand to bound down the steps. He guided out a figure wrapped in a blanket; one who moved slowly and jerkily, like there was something wrong with his legs. Ororo caught a flash of silver hair and recognised Quicksilver even as a familiar blue figure smoothed up beside him and took his arm in an almost motherly gesture.   
  
"Mystique."   
  
"Just Raven now. I had done with the whole codename thing a long time ago." Raven did her best to smile at her old adversary, and Ororo noticed the new wrinkles around her eyes that had less to do with age and more to do with worry. She hadn't even tried to shift them away, which meant they were probably more to do with her son than anything else. Especially judging by how she fussed around Kurt like an overprotective hen. Mystique never would have allowed herself such signs of weakness, but Raven obviously could.  
  
Things had certainly changed in the time she'd been gone from the big house on the cliff.   
  
There were a few faces missing amongst the throng, and Kurt seemed to know what she was doing as she searched for each of them and shook her head, whispering their names.   
  
"Scott, Jean... Charles. I remember that day all too clearly. There's no need to tell me what happened to them, Kurt. But what of the Brotherhood? Where is Toad?"   
  
Kurt at once looked guilt-ridden and scuffed his foot. "He... didn't make it. A mob." He left the rest unsaid, and Ororo made the customary sign for safe passage to the afterlife before her eye fell on Rogue and Kitty.   
  
The girls introduced themselves, and Ororo recalled seeing the former in and around Bayville for a short time. She was wearing Magneto's helmet, which looked slightly ridiculous, but given the miracle that was going on around them it was a small thing.   
  
Rogue filled in the blanks for the rest, and the Goddess nodded gravely at the news of the lab and what went on there, including the newly discovered augmentation of her powers.   
  
"I'd heard of such places, but I hoped they didn't really exist... I'm sorry."   
  
"What for? Nuthin' you coulda done 'bout it. All in the past, lady. All in the past."  
  
Then she asked the question Kurt was hoping and praying she wouldn't, and when he saw the blind hope in her weak eyes his heart nearly broke.   
  
"Where is Evan? Is he with you?" She looked around, but her smile faded when they all averted their eyes. A lump formed in her throat, and she whispered hoarsely, "He's dead, isn't he?"   
  
Kurt ascended the steps to clasp her withered hand, and his eyes mirrored her own tears like for like. "I'm so sorry, Ororo, I really am. I... I... he was my friend. He deserved to make this trip more than me - more than any of us."   
  
"The cross of bone," she murmured to herself, and then looked directly into his sorrowful golden eyes, repeating the prophecy Seer had given over a year ago like it suddenly made a lot more sense. "Living death walks in fog, falls by friends unloved, his enemy stands by him. He was... alone when he died. But not alone in death." Her gaze travelled down the stairs to where Pietro hunched into his blanket. "You... were with him?"   
  
Pietro swallowed hard. "Y-yes, ma'am. I was the one who buried him. I was the one who buried all of Bayville. Gotta keep busy, y'know?" He tried a small laugh, but it gurgled away in his throat.   
  
"Come here."   
  
Slowly, limping profusely, Pietro ascended and Kurt moved aside for him. Ororo reached out and grabbed at his pale hand, nearly toppling him, but Maive held him steady. He shot her a thankful smile, which she returned shyly.   
  
"Thank you," Ororo said.  
  
Pietro blinked. "Huh? Why thank me? I only did what he woulda done for me."   
  
"I know, and that's why I thank you." Ororo sighed, and closed her eyes for a second. "Evan was... very precious to me. It's good to know that someone else cared for him, even after his spirit had passed over. It means more than you know." She tried to squeeze his hand, but her grip was weak, and she fell away with a ragged cough at the effort.   
  
A shadow abruptly passed over the gathering, and as one they looked up at the huge, almost bat-like shape above them. A few cowered away as it swooped down, alighting on the vertical side of the building with an expression akin to amazed delight. The ridged brow and pale eyes cowed several, as a steady gaze raked them over.   
  
"You're all here, just like I Saw. I... I never thought you'd actually *arrive*. So many... My dream. A crowd of people gathered in happiness, commune in shared sorrow. My prophecies come to life..."   
  
Kurt blinked up at the creature that looked like it would be more at home on the side of a church than on the ground amongst them. He exchanged a look with Alvin, and then looked back. "You're the one? The one who wrote all those prophecies Alvin told us about?"   
  
"You've heard them?" The mutant - for it could only be a mutant - smiled joyously and bounced against the stonework. "Did they come true? Was I right? You're blue and furry, that would make you the demon, right? Love is the food of angels, a demon rises, with five hands he shall hold the world."   
  
"Uh, I've been called that, yes. And you are?"   
  
"Me? Oh, I'm just Seer. I have no other name. Happy with the one I've got. And that's Windswift next to you, isn't it? Windswift messenger man purifies world, his hands are full of blue gold. I remember Seeing you. You saved the water, didn't you?"   
  
Pietro blinked and looked dubiously at Ariel. "You... could say that, I suppose."   
  
Seer pointed at each of the original party, repeating their prophecies without need for text or prompting. Though he'd never met them before, he knew which could be attributed to whom instantly, and the other gathered mutants and humans looked on in naked awe as each was verified.   
  
"Girl of fire and ice walks narrow path, seeks self in chaos, touches hearts with fear. You fought a battle in your mind, didn't you? Still fighting... but don't despair. Help is at hand."   
  
Rogue blinked through the gap in the helmet and held tightly onto Robyn's little hand. Kitty just gaped as he spoke to her.   
  
"Ghost woman brings life to world, a new hope is born. Good choice of name, by the way. Lady Mobius calls the triangle, seeks point in new dimension. You have your children back, and thus the triangle is complete, Mystique. Sorry, Raven. Two dance eternally, steward of six walks road of holes. No more potholes here, Logan. Where's the Lord of Iron I foresaw?"   
  
The gaudy kid blinked at him curiously. "Iron? You mean Magneto? He has a prophecy thingie as well?"   
  
"Man who drove world apart, reunites in uneasy peace." Seer cast about at the assembled masses. "No need to ask about that one if you're all here, I suppose." He looked around, and frowned sadly. "I'd hoped I was wrong about Lady Luck."   
  
Pietro stiffened. "What did you say?"   
  
"Lady Luck meets Brother Time, precious moment ends in sorrow," Seer recited, and bowed his head. "I'm sorry for your loss, Windswift."   
  
"Yeah." Pietro swallowed again. "So am I."   
  
Another shadow fell, smaller this time. Magneto descended amongst his motley followers, nodding a second greeting at Ororo. In front of him floated a newly constructed wheelchair, much stronger than the one she was sat in, and the result of his powers from the past few minutes.   
  
"A gift," he said simply. "And perhaps, an apology for waylaying your students from reaching you sooner."   
  
"Erik..."   
  
He raised a hand. "Please, I only go by Magneto now. Raven may have given up her life as Mystique, but so long as Asteroid M is in the sky I shall remain the Master of Metal." He gestured to the three Acolytes. "And now I've fulfilled my promise to bring your students and their party to you, I bid this place and all its inhabitants farewell."   
  
"Wait!" Kurt once again bounded down the steps and grasped his gauntleted hand. "Don't go, please. There's a place for you and your people here. Ja, Ororo?" He turned to look over his shoulder, and she nodded weakly, like her head was too heavy for her neck to support.   
  
Magneto gave a small, thin smile. He prised Kurt's hand loose with an incongruous gentleness. "Nightcrawler - Kurt, I have my place and you have yours. We both have people who depend on us, and mine are not here. Yours are." He stepped away from the elf and raised his hands. "Spider-Man, Dazzler, Wolfsbane, come. We're leaving."   
  
"Just when we were starting to be pals, too." Peter rolled his eyes theatrically at Kurt and patted his shoulder. "Ain't that always the way?"   
  
"You could stay..."   
  
But Peter shook his head. "Earth just isn't the same place I remember. Maybe I'll come back sometime - visit you guys, yeah?"   
  
Kurt nodded sadly, not altogether confident in the promise. "Jawohl. Maybe."   
  
Peter stepped back and gave a half-hearted salute.  
  
Magneto gestured to Logan for permission to strip the defunct buss that had served them so well. The older mutant gave it, and the painted hide peeled off to wrap around the four figures in a smooth sphere.   
  
As it closed, Magneto caught Kurt's eye and threw a few words at him. "I'll bring them back, boy. I promise."   
  
Then it raised intro the sky and faded from view faster than anyone could possibly hope to imagine.   
  
Kurt raised his hand in a silent farewell to friends he might have made, given time. Then he turned his attention back to the crowd he was still confronted with. Faces old and new stared back at him, expectant, and he bit his lip at the dishevelled one he'd hoped to see for so long.   
  
Ororo looked surprised as Kurt expended energy enough to make his nose bleed and 'ported clean into her arms, hugging her tight like he'd never let go.   
  
"Gott, Ororo. I've missed you so much," he whispered fiercely. "So very, very much."   
  
*******************  
  
The rough metal sphere hovered in the air, before descending to the earth below. It had travelled not a few feet from the ground for several miles, a hole evident in its hide for several different eyes to peer through and gauge their location. Yet, finally they were here.   
  
The makeshift craft denuded its cargo, allowing them to step free into the shadow of the Lucas-esque vessel that had initially brought them to this world.   
  
The people of Mutie Town looked up as it raised into the sky, for all the world a piece of science fiction history brought to life. A few of them watched as it faded away, amongst them a certain crotchety leader and his right hand clairvoyant.   
  
The soft lapping of water and lily pads was almost musical on the dusty air, as the ship descended to Earth one last time. The engines droned, sending up clouds of dust and ash as a small hatch opened in the craft's underbelly. Two figures floated out, encapsulated in a sphere of magnetic energy.  
  
They touched broken asphalt and moved down the slope to where a lonely figure lay in the shallows, wreathed in algae and the strange aura of death. Her lips were still curved in that strange, enigmatic smile, though her final message had been torn apart by breeze and driftwood. However, now they understood that faint curvature a little better, and it was with forgiveness for her ultimate acts that they bent down and drew her from the place she'd intended to be that of her eternal rest.   
  
Peter found a new use for his webbing, draining his internal reserves to enfold her. He voiced no discomfort, and made his own way back to shore while his unasked-for leader floated silently ahead.   
  
The man held the body of his child close, as though he could bring her back to life by sheer force of will.   
  
And perhaps he could.   
  
Peter startled at the words, and for a moment he wasn't sure if they were directed at him. He looked up and saw Magneto lingering at the edge of the ruined bridge, face turned heavenwards like he was making a promise to God Himself. If he believed in such things, of course. His voice was hoarse, breathy, and clinging to it was an air of determination. Of promise.   
  
"I *will* bring them back."   
  
And despite himself, despite everything he'd seen and everything he knew to be working against that promise, Peter found himself nodding.   
  
*******************  
  
End.  
  
*******************  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
But wait! It ain't over yet... 


	39. First Epilogue

A/N ~ *Warbles* And now… the end is near… and so we face… the final curtain…  
  
Yes, it's true. JD is very nearly, almost, kinda over. Sorta. Maybe. ^_^ (Indecisive? me?) So, a big hearty thank you to all those who've reviewed so far, and to those who haven't, then why the hell not? Yes, after this, the first of the two epilogues, there will be but one more upload for this fic before it gains the idiom 'complete fic' in its summary. So I urge everyone who has even the faintest inkling of a question or comment regarding the fic, post it in a review and I'll devote a portion of the last A/N to answering it.   
  
Gerri ~ I get the feeling things are still too raw between Erik and Pietro just yet. In the future they may reconcile, but for now they're sitting on their hands, so to speak. Like father like son… Oh, and kudos for noticing the connotations of the chapter title. ^_^ Incisive, you are. Mmm. Use the Force, you must've. Yoda moment, I am having, yes, yes…  
  
Rurouni Tyriel ~ Wait over. ^_^ I think I'm going to be overusing that smilie today. Ah, what the hell. I have a vanilla slice, so I'm happy.  
  
Tenshiamanda ~ 38? Pshaw, that's nuthin'. *Inner-masochist rears skull*   
  
The Phantom ~ You really like Alvin, don't you? Bit of a redundant question, but I find myself smiling at the way you always manage to wriggle him into a review, no matter what the fit. It's nice to see an OC well-received (I don't write many on account of potential Mary-Sue-ish-ness). Although, your description of Alvin as 'all sweet and cute' created the image of a Chibi-Alvin in my head. A Chibi-Alvin with five-o-clock shadow and a strange little reed-hat. Shelob probably would've impressed me more in the stabbity-stab scene if Frodo had changed his expression a bit. He practically wore the same one through the second and third movies, and the majority of the first. I give him a Doscar for Best Miserable Expression for Longest Time Without Stopping.  
  
Nessie6 ~ There are the two epilogues and some other stuff, if that'll do you for the moment.  
  
DemonRogue13 ~ Wait no longer, fair Demon.  
  
Nemati ~ Um, astral strangulation? Anyway, attacking me from a distance is a bit of a moot point now, since here's the epilogue you asked for. Well, one of them, at any rate.  
  
Ezrajade ~ Remy? He's… around. And thanks for the compliment? ^_^ Happy Scribbler.   
  
Ambrosia ~ Sometimes you scare me with your big long reviews. But I'm all too happy to answer questions. Must be my bossy side coming through. You raise an interesting point about Dazzler's spelling, and in answer I can honesty say that I don't know how she'd get past not knowing how to spell a word she wanted to say. It's most likely she'd spell phonetically, as any small child would do when attempting to write a word they've never seen written before. Hmmm. *Brain ticks over*. You're Pom-Australian? Coolies. Now, to Wanda. As I understand it, Wanda's mutation means that she is aligned with one of the greatest forces in the universe – chaos. Chaos and Order (note the capitalisation) are two fundamentals of the world; they can't exist either with or without each other. Marvel decided that Chaos is therefore confined to a sort of all-encompassing energy that surrounds everyone and everything that is or is done. It provokes things to happen or not happen, things to be or not be, things to work and fail etc. It is, in Layman's terms, as close to a real deity as one is ever likely to get. Now take Wanda. Thanks to that lovely little mutation she has, she's hyper-aware of these energies, but is more in tune with the energy of Chaos than of Order. She can understand Order, but she can *manipulate* Chaos – even if, like when she was a child in XME, she can't always control this ability very well. She's like a vessel – chaos works through her. The most common manifestation of this ability is through 'probability influence' – put very simply, she makes what is unlikely, likely. The bizarre and improbable become probable. So it is that, say, it is unlikely that Kitty would ever get stuck phased halfway through the floor without serious injury. It is slim chance – almost negligible, really. Yet, with her power Wanda can tip the odds so that it *is* likely to happen. Order thrives on probability being in its favour. Wanda makes things uneven in favour of Chaos. Thus is can be said that she is almost omnipotent, except that she has the curse of a mortal shell. If she exerts her powers too much by making the ultimately impossible suddenly possible (like turning a chair to green chocolate as you suggested), then her body might not be able to cope with the huge energies coursing through it. Consider a glass filling with water. It can hold a great deal, but fill it too much and it flows over, wetting the area around it. Or, if you fill it with water that's too cold or too hot, the glass will shatter. So it is with Wanda. She has to be careful about just how far she experiments with her powers so they don't turn around and kill her (like in JD). So, in *theory* she could quite literally do anything, simply by manipulating the likelihood of it in her favour. Therefore, she could indeed do any of the things you suggested. However, in *practise* it would be far less possible because of the many other factors in the equation. It's not just her power that counts; it's the environment she uses it in. Moving on, you ask about Magneto's powers. He's in tune with the Earth's electromagnetic spectrum, so any metal he manipulates does answer to magnetism et al. Marvel likes making Evil!Magneto manipulate the iron in a person's blood. In the comics, Wanda married Vision, an android (cyborg? My Avengers knowledge is lacking) and they have two children. But… something happens to them, I think. The kids, that is. Ach, what little I know has come out of the recent JLA/Avengers crossover, which included two flashback pictures and Wanda crying over 'the fate of the children'. *Processes comment on absurdity of later Angel episodes* So… it's a show about a vampire with a soul, who runs a detective agency helped by demons and ex-prom queens while he fights demons, vampires, evil law firms and the ghost of his ex-lover. And that was *before* the storylines got absurd?  
  
Cheesy Monkey ~ I have a plushie! It can go with my Beast Boy and Terra plushies (I just watched the world premiere of the Teen Titans episode 'Betrayal' – take that, US schedulers!)  
  
Rogue151 ~ Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad you liked it ^_^.  
  
Yma ~ The last little Magneto bit was additional. I wrote it afterwards, because otherwise he and the acolytes just vanished into thin air, and it made sense for him to go back for the body at the river. Though I assume it wouldn't have been in very good condition at that point.   
  
Hootild ~ *Hands over coffee* Ororo your boat? For shame at punning, Hootild. For shame. *Wry smile*  
  
sPoOkZ13412 ~ Here you go. ^_^  
  
MatureImmaturity ~ I mean, it ain't over 'til the fat lady sings. And since I don't see Fred in drag anywhere about, it ain't over yet. ^_^  
  
Raze ~ You might like this first epilogue, then.   
  
AerinBrown ~ You're welcome. And actually, there are two epilogues. Plus some additional stuff, just because.   
  
Yuki ~ Blizzards? Ha! I spit on your blizzards with my torrential British rain/hail/sleet! And a Happy Belated Easter to you, too.  
  
*******************  
  
Epilogue I  
  
*******************  
  
The sun had not yet peeped over the horizon, and a watery mist hung on the air as the last vestiges of night clung to the world. Tendrils of shadow wrapped themselves around buildings, retreating to slivers of shade for another few hours of daylight, where they could wait for dusk to settle so they could run free again.   
  
Kurt sat in Ororo's room, perched on the single metal chair. The wheels were still; their shine untarnished from the day Magneto had made them. Kurt knew, because he'd spent many hours sitting in here, polishing, buffing, wiping at them with any handy rag he could find, talking to her as she lay amongst her pillows and blankets.   
  
He was good at talking when he needed to be, though years of it being just he and Robyn had dulled the talent for a while. It hadn't taken long after beginning his journey to re-immerse himself in it, though. 'A proper little chatterbox' Logan had called him on those few occasions he came up here to visit, or just stand in the door and listen to the elf babble.   
  
Logan didn't come so often to begin with, the stench nobody else could smell making him feel ill. Yet, recently he'd been a regular visitor, as if he could sense what all of them were coming to realise. Kurt had happened upon him once, sitting at her bedside while she slept, hand clasped between his own in a moment of naked openness; the kind he never would've allowed anybody to witness voluntarily. He hadn't moved or said anything, just sat there; staring at her wan face like she'd hung the moon.   
  
Kurt had often pondered the relationship between Logan and Ororo, wondering if there had been something between them once. Neither of them mentioned it, nor gave any hint if they could help it, but he was around this dingy room so often that it was difficult for him not to wonder.   
  
If Ororo had any feelings about what was now growing between Logan and Raven, then she kept her silence on that, also. Kurt had asked about it once, but her only answer had been a small, beatific small that lit her eyes more than curved her lips; like she was keeping some secret that warmed her heart, but which she could never share.   
  
Strangely enough, the other most frequent caller was Ariel. The former slave had taken an instant liking to the Goddess, and she had taught him all she knew about rainfall, the cycle of the moon and the tide, and all manner of other things. Sometimes she slipped and called him Evan, but he never commented on it, and she never made the same mistake twice in one visit.   
  
Now, as Kurt stared at her peaceful face, chin cupped in his hands, he thought back on all the conversations he'd had with her since their arrival in this place three months ago. Uneasiness had been quick to dissipate, and though there was still a little distrust amongst the Mutie Towners about such close proximity to human-folk, things had generally settled down. A rhythm had emerged, with Kitty proving herself one of the friendliest souls, always willing to welcome people into her little house. She was a great hit with the Goddess' people, and never went short of babysitters, though only Kurt ever saw the slight sadness to her bearing when talking of the past and Hope's father. Ariel and the ever-silent Bairn were less than crutches to her, more than friends, and the four lived together as an odd combination that somehow worked nonetheless.   
  
Pietro and Rogue had set up house together, after a fashion. Their relationship was more of the sibling variety, Kurt had noticed, with one supporting the other whenever they stumbled or fell. Rogue's powers sometimes still caused her grief, even with Magneto's old helmet, but Pietro was always nearby to pick her up and give a kind word; not at all like the arrogant speedster of old.   
  
His ankle, never totally healed by Layla thanks to circumstance, had never been the same again. He ran, yes; but had truly given up the mantle of Quicksilver and all that went with it, instead choosing the life of the soil, and learning all he could about farming and how to produce new life from bare earth. It was his salve, this ability to create instead of destroy - his pathway back to sanity.  
  
Alvin taught Pietro all he knew, having sworn never to journey forth from this place again. He devoted himself to producing green things these days, and was primarily responsible for the variety of potted plants draped around Ororo's room to 'brighten the décor'. Daisy loved his books on plant-care, and often followed him through the fields, reciting whole chunks until Logan called her in for supper in the house the two of them shared. The two of them, Kurt, Robyn and Raven sometimes ate together, since they were neighbours, and the three youngsters passed glances across the table concerning the adults' glances and lingering hand-on-hand touches.   
  
Magneto had not been heard from since the first day. Nor had Mutie Town, though the latter was probably no surprise. Kurt mourned for lost friends and allies, but life here in the Lands of New Hope had kept him busy enough not to dwell on it.   
  
Yet, right now, as he sat watching in the not-quite-dark, all he wanted to do was stretch time to its longest and sit out the minutes all over again.   
  
He'd remember this time forever. He was sitting vigil alone, as he'd requested. They'd been expecting it for days, and, after profuse cursing at losing Forge's equipment, the wailing of the Goddess' followers that their blessed plants could do nothing to help; after all that unhelpful nothingness was done, he'd sat. And he'd waited, counting the breaths, the lengthening pauses between them, worrying over her and what she no longer felt. She'd told him not to fret, that she was content in what had been and what was to be, but anxiety was his way, and so he worried while she slipped farther and farther into that private, secret world.   
  
She looked like she was sleeping; peaceful, serene, as beautiful as her name implied. Even so drained, so depleted, she still retained that aura of nobility that had carried her through such suffering, such blind hatred and wanton destruction that had taken her kith and kin. She was amazing, and Kurt watched with nothing less than reverence as the last shallow breath whistled from her lungs.   
  
And then she was silent.   
  
He waited a few minutes, as thin sunlight crept through the window and wilted over the bedclothes. He waited for the next deceptive inhalation that would signal a life extended by a few more heartbeats; but he wasn't surprised when it didn't come.   
  
They'd started off their journey knowing this day would come, and it was only through sheer grace of whatever deity chose to listen that they'd clawed back the three months elapsed since then. Rogue had done what Ororo asked in preparation for this; a few light touches per day, until she knew as well as the Goddess did herself what needed to be done and how they were to go about it after the event. In return, Ororo had repeated the lessons once taught by Charles Xavier to one Miss Jean Grey, in the hope they might alleviate some of the quasi-telepath's struggle and prepare her for the road ahead.   
  
Together with Ariel, Rogue had been elevated in these last few days to take on the majority of Ororo's role, and Kurt knew that right now, at that very moment, though she lay in her bed so far away from this little room, Rogue could feel the woman's passing just as acutely as himself.   
  
The silence was stifling, and Kurt slid from the chair to cross the room. He laid a deferential palm on Ororo's forehead, whispering the prayer for safe passage taught to him by his adoptive mother and father. Then he turned and left through the single door, not looking back until he reached the sentry, Maive, at the other end of the corridor. No words passed between them, but she knew what had come about and quietly went to the deserted room.   
  
Robyn was waiting for him on the porch outside. Kurt blinked, surprised to see her there. She looked up at him with wide, soft eyes, and he nodded, dropping to his knees and letting her snivel into his shirt. She cried for both of them, and her cheek fur was still wet when she took his hand and guided him away from the building, towards a small patch of grass on the outskirts of the Lands of New Hope.   
  
They'd been here before, the morning after they arrived, for him to fulfil his promise to her. Now, as Robyn led him to it again, Kurt replayed the small exchange that had passed in a doctor's office so many months ago. Alvin's voice first, and Robyn's, and even his own, echoing through time and trial like moths to a flame in his mind.   
  
"The Goddess would welcome you. I could take you to her. The journey is long and arduous, but what waits at the end is pure paradise. I would gladly lead you hence."   
  
"Liebling, I - "   
  
"Please, Kurti. Please, let's go there."   
  
"I..."   
  
"Please, Kurti...?"   
  
"Ja... liebchen, ja. Let's go. Let's leave. There's no place for us here in Bayville anymore. Perhaps... perhaps there we can make a new life for ourselves. You'll like Ororo, Kleines. She's nice, and kind, and wise. And when we get there, I'll show you grass. And we'll stand on it together when it's wet with morning dew, just like I told you."   
  
The grass was cool between his toes, and the dew soaked through his fur and onto his skin. He shivered, and Robyn replied in kind. Grass never ceased to delight her, and she whipped her tail through it, sending up beads of moisture that dappled the air like diamonds, as the sun finally stole over the distant horizon. Weak rays turned to gold, and a bracelet of warmth encircled the Lands, as the two mutants stared out across it, thankful for the day ahead of them.   
  
Then, without a word, Robyn pointed. Kurt followed her clawed finger to where a lone figure travelled the path towards them. He rode a motorcycle, a device thought long gone to the Old World, and kicked up a swathe of dust in his wake. With his sensitive eyesight, Kurt saw that the rider looked just as surprised to happen upon this place as they were to see him, and he paused the bike long enough to gape at the mounds of houses and fields of pure, unadulterated green.   
  
The stuff that dreams were made of.   
  
Unbidden, both Kurt and Robyn stood a little taller and waved to him, and he gaped at them also before turning his bike back to the path. A cloud rose up as he sped forth, anxious to reach the place that often was rumour, often insulted, but always open to the weary traveller, whether the Goddess be in residence or not.   
  
For these were the Lands of New Hope, where green things, humans and mutants grew and flourished.  
  
******************* 


	40. Second Epilogue

A/N - And so we... almost finish. Yup, although this is the second and final epilogue of 'Judgment Day', it is not the last of this fic. For indeed, we have more. And hopefully this Extended DVD package, which is chock full of extra goodies and hidden Easter Eggs, will help pacify those who have stuck with this fic for so long. Especially those who broke into my house last Thursday, beat me around the head with a wet haddock, and then left me senseless and tied to my chair with a post-it reading 'finish the damn fic' stuck to my forehead. Your excessively supportive standpoint has been noted, whoever you are.   
  
However (dun, dun, duuuun!) the next couple of instalments of JD here on FF.net are not the only bonus I have on offer. You see, after many months of thinking and talking about it, I finally got off my rotund posterior and got my own website – with help, of course, since I'm HTML illiterate. And on this website, you can now find all the fanart from JD - including the inspirational stuff behind characters like Ariel and Grasshopper. The address can be found in my FF.net bio, and I hope y'all can find the time to visit - maybe even to leave a note in the Guest Book. And if anyone has fanart pertaining to JD, I now have a place to store it, both in my heart and on the 'Net. So this is an official appeal for any and all JD related fanart. Anybody out there, anybody at all, even a quick scribble on the back of your bus ticket will be praised and then put on display to be praised some more.  
  
Shameless self-promotion over with, on to the last ever replies to those gorgeous people who left reviews to Epilogue I.   
  
Nessie6 - One chapter and something more. Thanks very much for the repeated reviews, I value them more than you know.  
  
Rurouni Tyriel - A happy ending you say? -Cue evil cackling- We shall see, O innocent one, we shall see...  
  
DemonRogue13 - It's pretty much up to the individual reader's discretion concerning any previous Logan/Ororo. Personally, I always saw it as unrequited affection on both sides, but that's just me. You might want to interpret it differently.  
  
Hootild - What do I mean by 'it's coming to a close'? I mean it's coming to a close. That's generally what 'coming to a close' means, isn't it? Good 'ol Red Eyes - I think Frakn Sinatra has some competition for his moniker... after a fashion. And as for Peter... well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?  
  
Angel of the Fallen Stars - Nope, sorry, but Romy is only slightly more likely than me dressing up in a gorilla suit and bunny ears, and then going door to door asking people if they want to buy once-owned office furniture in a fetching shade of lilac. And sorry for the gap in updates. I have no excuse other than it was end of semester at university, meaning exams, and a long period of being uninspired, meaning arsing about on the Internet and then realising that damn, I hadn't written those review replies yet again.   
  
Ezrajade - It ain't over yet! See, more fic. Just look below. And yes, that was Remy on the bike. 'Cajun-Man, Cajun-Man, does whatever a Cajun can...'  
  
BoxerMan - Thank you very much.   
  
UnknownSource - Would that FF.net allowed more than two classifications at a time. But sadly, they don't, and so this shall have to remain 'Action/Adventure with a bunch of angst to boot'. Pertaining to the length and flow of the narrative, unfortunately that's a risk you run with multi-authored fiction. We started out with no idea where the plot would go, and as a result of several people's ideas it went like a shot, but was executed with some dragging of feet. Yes, it's definitely Wolfsbane instead of Rahne, here. She's always been one of my favourites, so she was fun to play with and explore. Apologies for the lack-of-Sam-and-other-NM, but it would have been just too convenient to be trekking across a whole country and only run across people you would have met anyway, given a different timeline. Ororo finally found some peace, and the other characters were willing to let her have that peace, even if it meant her leaving them. Think of it this way - she's with her family now. Her bloodline family, I should say. Pietro commented back when Kurt was shot in the... seating area that he's blue underneath. And as for the scene with Kurt and Robyn watching Remy ride towards the Lands of New Hope... I foresee a potential fanart, don't you? Who wants to draw that one and gain a place on my site, peoples? [/pleading]  
  
Tenshiamanda - That was Remy on the motorcycle. He arrived in the previous epilogue.   
  
The Phantom - I can sort of see what you mean about Alvin. However, it's more likely that I would be the one cowering on the sidelines, waiting for an Alvin with a trash can lid to come and protect me. And just to say farewell... stabbity-stabbity-stabbity-stab, may Shelob haunt your dreams forever more, sayeth I.   
  
Gerri - Well, the saying is 'it's always darkest before the dawn'. Which is a pretty stupid saying, really, as it's actually rather light before the dawn. But yes; things had to turn into a big steaming pile of doggy-doo before Xavier's dream could properly be realised. I'm pleased somebody spotted that reference. -Pats Gerri on the back-  
  
Cheesy Monkey - Beast Boy is my baby, and I just plain like Terra, despite her Mary-Sue tendencies. But since I started writing Teen Titans fanfic, Raven and Jinx have also found special places in my heart. Feh. I just want to know what they've done to Bumblebee in the forthcoming Season Three. Bring it on, sayeth I!  
  
Ambrosia - Yes, your big long, gigantic, gargantuan, enormous, extremely large reviews do indeed scare me. But at the same time, they compel me to answer, because you're one of those reviewers who actually ask intelligent questions, and for a bossy cow like me that's right up my street. So I thank you for that. You may not be the only leaver of long reviews, but you indulge my pseudo-intelligent side. I think the dog you're thinking of is Pomeranian; that little ball of fluff that will take your hand off as soon as look at you. Pom is Australian slang for Englishperson, so a Pom Australian is an Englishperson now living down under. I'm English, though (as is shown by some of my odd spellings), so hail another sort-of Englishperson. Your guess is as good as mine concerning the Wanda's Babies thing. My Avengers trivia is sadly lacking. Looks at Angel explanation My brain hurts, now. I never really got into Angel, but I liked BtVS up to about Season Three/early Season Four when ... well, IMHO when it descended into the lower realms of craptitude, and I abandoned the series until recently, when I was struck by 90s nostalgia and went back to look at the odd Buffy-esque hairstyles. Pre-Evo can be whatever we want it to be, if we disregard some of the Udon comics. Which I frequently do. I'm with you on the Matrix thing, though. No way in hell am I wasting hours of my life watching those dismal cash-ins. Did I say cash-ins? I meant sequels. And I shall update OBAB forthwith, since you asked so nicely. Just let me work on some other ficcage first. -Sniff- I'm going to miss your reviews.  
  
Yma - One year exactly since it was first released, Yma. Twenty months since we first started writing it. JD's come a long way since then, hasn't it?   
  
Yuki - Since she's only five years old, Robyn's mutations at present are only physical - much like Kurt when he was young. Secondary powers, if any, would most likely surface around puberty, with all the hormones and rampant angst that comes with that emotional time of life. I'm glad you like the addition of Remy. Ready or not, here comes the Ragin' Cajun.  
  
Spectra2 - Thank you very much. I treasure these reviews more than you could ever know.   
  
Rageful Jewel - That's one hell of a pseudonym, you know. JD has no current website, but if someone were to take it upon him or herself to build one for it, I wouldn't say no. Fanart can be found at my personal site (listed in my FF.net bio), and any questions you have concerning the fic can be answered by email, if you like. As for Warren, yes, that crucified figure was him. Not that Our Heroes knew him, of course.

--------------------

Second Epilogue

--------------------

Some people say that the world was once a garden, a paradise in which man lived peacefully before he was destroyed through the mechanisms of a serpent. Some say that tale is just that - a story; a meaningless yarn spun for security in lieu of scientific discovery. Others say that there is a seed of truth in every myth.   
  
All are correct.   
  
The Gardener smiles down at his creation, pleased with his work. Almost everything has gone exactly the way he so carefully planned. He could not have asked for a better result.   
  
Beneath him is stretched a holographic projection of the world, spherical and perfect in every detail. Currently it is focussed in on one tiny area - a beautiful patch of lush green in a desolate wasteland.   
  
The land of the fallen Goddess.   
  
The Gardener fingers something in his hand, and then brings it up to his face. He studies it, observing it's every detail. There is a thoughtful expression in his cold, black eyes.   
  
It is a figurine, every feature and every facet made perfect by diligent attention to detail. Intricately carved from blue Lapis Lazuli, its tiny eyes are specks of gold leaf. The misshaped hands and digigrade legs making it look almost demonic in appearance.   
  
"How far you have come, Kurt Wagner," the Gardener murmurs, turning the figurine over with bloodless fingers. "From the electro-magnetic pulse I used to break your holowatch, to the virus I helped create, to the cure I dispersed in the atmosphere; how very, very far you have come."   
  
He carefully places the figurine down besides its companions, a large group of delicate statuettes, all carved out of different materials, all perfect to the tiniest detail. Laid out so, they almost resemble a chess set.  
  
"How far you have all come," the Gardener says again. "But now... you are weary. You are tired of the long journey, of the endless tests. Do not worry, my children. This time of hardship is over. I have tilled the soil, rooted out the weeds, sown the seeds and watered them well. Now there is little more for me to do but wait. Wait and watch you grow. So grow, my children."  
  
He reaches into the drawer of a table beside him and brings out five more figurines. Pressing a button on a nearby computer console, he adjusts the holographic image until it shows a space station carved into a gigantic asteroid. With the touch of another button he looks within it, into the many corridors of iron and steel, the many rooms and echoing chambers.   
  
He places the five new figurines in front of those already standing. They are equally beautiful, equally faultless.   
  
A girl with hair sculpted from ruby.   
  
A boy with no hair.   
  
A child with chips of ruby quartz for eyes.   
  
A girl with hair carved of onyx.   
  
A boy fashioned from jade, long limbs almost frog-like in appearance.   
  
"Grow," he repeats. "Grow strong by the light of the sun and the moon. Grow tall and well. Grow for me, so that my work and toil might come to fruition. Grow, so that when you finally bloom..." his black lips twist into a dark grin, "I may reap the fruits of my long labours."  
  
The road has been hard, but for now he is content to watch his garden grow. He knows full well that it will be many years before he can revisit this part of his garden, but this does not worry him. Mr. Sinister is nothing if not a patient man.   
  
And so he sits back, waiting for the inevitable harvest.   
  
Waiting for Judgment Day.

-----------------  
FINIS.  
-----------------


End file.
